Spider Girl II: Mask of Anubis
by Tokoyo
Summary: Anubis has struck. The unthinkable has happened. Mayday's choice has been made. There's no turning back now.
1. Prologue

Prologue

BJERØLVANGAR ISLAND

Greenland Territory

10:14 PM, December 27, 2009

The man pushed the tip of his tongue between his teeth and eyed the object at his feet. His goal took intense concentration and skill. The object of his scrutiny was small and dimpled; a golf ball.

He carefully aligned the base of his golf club with the ball. It rested just in front of highly polished black shoes. Even in his position he was not one for casual dress, which he considered unprofessional and slovenly.

The artificial grass shone dully in the dim light. The man swung the golf club over his shoulder.

A tentative voice spoke from the shadows behind him. "Sir?"

The man sighed and relaxed his stance. Weygnd. Of course. He wondered belatedly why he had hired such a young, weak-willed little weasel as an assistant to begin with; he seemed to have a predilection for appearing at the most inopportune moments, and in addition his Icelandic accent made him nearly incomprehensible.

He quickly aquired his usual tone of bored derision. "Yes, what is it now, Weygnd?" he said, without turning.

"The Nantucket operation...intelligence has just reported...there have been some problems..." Weygnd trailed off weakly.

"Weygnd, your talent for understatement never ceases to amaze me," the man sneered at Weygnd's hapless tone. Weakness. There was no trait the man despised more. "The Nantucket operation has failed, I know that much. What I want to know is why."

"There was a guard insurrection..." stammered Weygnd.

"Those idiots couldn't disrupt an operation even if they tried. Our agent should have been able to handle them easily. It must have been a technical glitch."

"They had help, sir," said Weygnd.

He whirled to stare at the sweating aide. "What?"

"Th-they had h-help, s-sir."

"What? What help?" the man snarled. The interview was going to become dangerous if his unpredictable temper rose any further, and Weygnd knew it. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck. "Don't kill the messenger" was not a half-humorous adage here, but a real plea.

"Well...one person. Three, actually. Y-yes."

"Stop sniveling, Weygnd, you pathetic little...! Who are they? Names, Weygnd!"

"Spider-Girl!" Weygnd blurted.

_Snap!_

Weygnd clasped his sweaty hands behind his back to stop them from shaking. His boss tossed both halves of the destroyed golf club carelessly away.

"Spider..._Girl_, did you say?" His tone was suddenly soft. Weygnd stood and trembled.

The man turned and walked a short distance to a rack of golf clubs, musing, "Spider-Girl, did you say." He selected one, slid it through his hands and examined the grip. "Any relation to Spider-Man?"

"In-intelligence reports that she is his daughter, sir," Weygnd said.

"How old?"

"T-teenaged. Fifteen, sixteen at most."

A smile curled at the corner of the man's mouth. Young. Very young. Not fit to be glanced at, let alone be considered a threat.

True to form, Weygnd dissolved this illusion. "She destroyed the operations base, sir. Nearly singlehandedly."

The man's grip on the club tightened, his tone deceptively collected. "Is...is that so?"

The man's lip curled up into snarl as Weygnd stuttered, "Sp-Spider- Man was there."

"Was he." The man selected another club. "Was he."

"And...and we know the identity of the third. The real identity."

"Oh?"

"Yes, sir. Another teenager. One Harry Osborn."

The man whirled so quickly that Weygnd strangled a gasp. "Harry Osborn?"

"Yes, sir. He was apparently acting under the alias of 'Hobgoblin', but-"

"Sir!"

Weygnd stopped in midsentence, grateful for an interruption. A woman in a pinstriped business suit stood in the office doorway. Her hair was drawn back in a severe knot. "Sir, it's Garcia. She's alive. She's here!"

The light from the hallway stretched into an elongated rectangle over the carpeted floor. The man regained his composure. "Send her up. Immediately."

The woman began to protest. "Sir, she's very badly wounded. She's being conducted to the medical quarters-"

"I said send...her..._up_," the man growled, enunciating each word clearly. The woman's eyes widened slightly, and she left much more quickly than she had arrived.

The man returned to his task of choosing a golf club. Weygnd stood in the half-light and fidgeted. After a few moments, two guards appeared silhouetted in the doorway, holding a limp object between them. It was a woman, dressed in the shreds of a lab coat over a strange black suit, dripping wet and clutching a hand to her side. Her black hair hung around her face like a curtain.

The guards dropped the woman unceremoniously to the floor. She sagged to her knees, both hands pressed against the wound. Blood trickled through her fingers. It was black.

The man did not turn. "Hello, Garcia."

Dr. Elaine Garcia did not respond.

The man continued, "I hear you've been having some difficulties, Garcia. Would you care to enlighten me on the subject?"

"I...sorry...sir...I...tried to..." Garcia's voice dissolved into a flurry of wheezing coughs. "It was..._her_..."

"Spider-Girl?" The man asked conversationally. "You were sabotaged by a teenager in tights with a few minor abilities? I'm surprised at you, Garcia."

"Sir..." Weygnd broke in, casting a worried look at Garcia. "Sir, I think Garcia's been shot."

"I'm aware of that, Weygnd."

Weygnd thought it in his best interest to remain silent until further notice.

The man turned his attention back to Garcia. "You did not obtain the formula."

Garcia shook her head, her face contorted with pain.

"You failed."

Garcia nodded slowly.

"Come now, Garcia, you know the Darwinian laws. Those who are unfit are weeded out. In fact, I hear that you in fact deviated from your objective in order to pursue a personal grudge. Is there any truth in that?"

"I'm...sorry...please...sir...help me...I won't fail you...again..." Garcia gasped.

"No, you will not fail me again," the man said. "Tell me, Garcia, can you give me any reason why I should allow you to live after this display of incompetence? Well? Then-"

"Yes," Garcia croaked.

"What?"

"I know...the identities...of Spider-Girl...and Spider-Man..."

The man dropped the golf club with a clatter and practically bounded across the room. He grasped Garcia by the shoulders and pulled her up. "Who are they? Elaine! Tell me!"

Elaine Garcia had never before seen the face of her superior. Her eyes widened in astonishment, and her face almost seemed to brighten. "You...it's really...you...?"

"Elaine! Two names and treatment is yours! Tell me, Elaine! Who are they?"

"Yes...I'll tell...Spider-Girl...is..." She shuddered, clutching her wounded side. "Is..."

"Yes?" The man's eyes were wide, his teeth bared in either a smile or a snarl. Weygnd began to edge away from the bizarre scene: a half-mad man demanding names from a dying woman.

"Spider-Girl is...is...M-Ma-" The woman sagged, collapsing to the floor. Before the man's eyes, her body suddenly twisted into a form that only few in the operation had seen. Weygnd yelled and stumbled backwards as the extra arms and joints appeared with sickening crunches and cracks.

Black Widow, who had once been Elaine Garcia, lay on the floor of the man's office. She was dead.

The man snapped at the guards. They hurried forward, picked up the body and carried it out.

Weygnd stood in horrified facination as the man placidly chose a golf club. He walked over to his previous spot, aimed, and whipped the club around in a swing. The ball went flying.

A computerized voice mumured, "Calculated distance, eight hundred thirty-four yards."

"I'll...I'll reset the gauge," said Weygnd weakly. "There must be something wrong with it. Eight hundred yards is impossible."

"I just hit it, didn't I?" the man said. "Leave it, Weygnd. I'm going to need some thought on this matter."

He was silent for a long time.

" Get me...Anubis. Yes, contact Anubis. Tell him I have a proposition, and I want him here immediately."

"A-Anubis? Sir, are you sure...yes, sir! Right away!" Weygnd stumbled backwards as he caught a glimpse of the man's expression.

As Weygnd hurried out, wiping sweat from his forehead, the wiry, middle-aged man turned back to his game, allowing himself a low, satisfied laugh that could almost have been mistaken for a cackle.


	2. Chapter One: Free Fall

Chapter One

NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

May 23, 2010 5:52 PM

It was a beautiful day outside, with only a few spongy clouds and a cool, salty breeze from the ocean. A flock of pigeons fluttered down Fifth Avenue and perched on the window ledges of the Empire State Building. A huge flag fluttered in the wind a few feet over my head.

"And she gauges the distance," I said, in my best Olympic-commentator voice. "Will this be the day the record is set? The championship of the insanely dangerous, death-defying stunt of the century?"

I adjusted my grip on the flagpole and turned in a circle, enjoying the view. The pointed spire of the Chrysler Building glittered among the towers of Manhattan Island. Little specks, like ants, were people milling around on the streets below, so tiny from this height. I could barely make out the sign of a Duane Reede and the glint of a street musician's saxophone.

"The crowd is silent. All eyes are on our challenger." I hooked an arm around the flagpole and cracked my knuckles. "And she begins the climb!"

I grinned as I scaled the pole, edging around the lines securing the giant flag. I had been wanting to try this for ages, but I had never actually gotten the chance because the weather had been so terrible. But today was the day. I was going to pull this stunt or die trying!

Well, hopefully not actually die.

"She reaches the top! What must be going through young Mayday's head right now?" I hopped up and balanced lightly on the rounded ball tipping the flagpole. The wind was even stronger up here.

I took a deep breath and tensed, bracing my feet against the metal. "In three...two...one..."

I pushed off hard against the flagpole and somersaulted in midair, barely clearing the ledge of the closed observation deck as I dove head first off of the tallest point of the Empire State Building.

I stretched my arms over my head and locked my fingers together as the wind roared around me. Concrete and windows blended together in a silvery blur as I plumetted downwards. The ground leaped up at me like a thing alive; cement streets and cars and people rushed upwards at a dizzying speed.

I twisted in the air, straining against the wind to aim and bend my fingers. Two lines of web jetted from the inside of my wrists and connected. My arms suddenly jerked over my head and I was swinging, breezing barely four feet above the roof of a parked car and arcing back up into the sky.

I landed on the roof corner of an office building and bowed. "All right! I have got to do that again some time!" I hollered at the streets of midtown Manhattan. A few people looked up, blinked, then started pointing at me. I hopped to the center of the gravel roof, where I wouldn't be gawked at.

I had done it! A free fall from the top of the Empire State Building! The tallest building in New York City! I crossed my arms and grinned. Final exams were through, school was out, and summer was here. A few lines from an old song ran through my head. "No more pen-cils, no more bo-oks, no more teach-ers, dirty lo-oks! School's out-for the summer! School's out- forever!"

Well, I could dream, couldn't I?

I took a deep breath and let it out. It really was a beautiful day outside. The breeze had blown away most of the pollution, and the air was miraculously clean. A perfect day for 'swinging.

I should probably take the time to mention that I'm Spider-Girl.

Mom was making something in the kitchen that looked somthing like a salad when I walked in the back door of our house, dressed normally. It wasn't very big, just an average Queens townhouse.

My little brother Benjamin, known locally as Benny, was eating cereal and lying on his back on the den sofa, eyes glued to his latest craze, something called 'Digimon'. The phone rang somewhere in the house, and I heard my dad calling, "I'll get it."

Benny slurped a mouthful of Lucky Charms. "How goes it, elder sibling?"

I rolled my eyes. Ever since he had turned nine last week, he had been trying to sound mature. It was a strange contrast to the fact that he was watching a show about weird little animals pounding the daylights out of each other.

"My afternoon was positively invigorating, small brother. It was an absolutely ideal day for my post-educational constitution."

Benny blinked at me.

"That means that it's a good day for webswinging."

"I know what it means," Benny sniffed.

"Mayday! How was your day?" Mom grinned.

"Er...okay, I guess."

"It's going to get better. Check over there." Mom nodded towards the kitchen table. An open envelope lay on the surface.

"I didn't look at the address, and I opened it. Sorry," Mom said. "Well, look!"

I picked up the envelope, unfolded the letter. "Dear May, the Midtown Senior High Players are pleased to inform you that you have been cast as-"

I looked up. "I got a part in the play!"

Mom grinned.

I had tried out for the Midtown drama club's summer production of 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' a few months ago, mostly at my parents' urging. I had been very depressed for awhile, sometime in January. I'm sure they wanted to get my mind on something else other than...what had happened.

"I'm Cobweb. But it says here that they gave me the big speech with Puck at the beginning. You know, 'Over hill, over dale...'"

"Isn't it great? Pete!" Mom called into the living room. "Mayday's in the play!"

I heard Dad go "Hmm?" from somewhere in the living room. Mom turned back to me. "Didn't I tell you trying out was worth it?"

"Yeah..." I said.

"You're going to love it. The people, the costumes...we'll make an actress out of you yet!"

"Me?" I squeaked.

"Yes, you!" Mom was getting that faraway look in her eyes. I knew she had almost been a drama major in college, and she took acting very seriously.

Dad poked his head into the room, holding the phone. "MJ, your brother's on the phone."

Mom blinked. "Rob? Huh. Okay, just a second." She took the phone and headed into the other room.

I dropped my backpack on the floor by the kitchen table as Dad said, "What's this I hear?"

I held up my highlighted script. "I'm going to do Shakespeare."

"Really? Who? What part?"

"I'm a fairy, attendant to Queen Titania. Cobweb."

"That's appropriate," Dad said. He went over to the island, peered into the salad bowl and hid a grimace. "Black olives with cherry tomatoes?"

I made a face. "Dad, about this play..."

"Yes?" Dad grabbed a spoon and began scooping lumps of sliced black olives out of the salad.

"It's going to take rehearsal time." I crossed my arms. "After school rehearsal time."

"Well, you made a commitment. You're going to have to follow it through." Dad pulled out an Italian dressing and began pouring it onto the salad, glancing over his shoulder into the other room to make sure Mom didn't see what he was doing. I stifled a laugh.

"Shhh." Dad added more lettuce.

I wasn't about to let it drop, though. "Dad...you and Mom bugged me about trying out for this play, and you knew it was going to take a lot of time."

"It'll be fun," Dad said. "Anyway, you didn't have to try out. You decided to."

"I didn't think I was actually going to get in," I said. "And I've got stuff to do. You know that."

"You need to be involved in more than one...activity, Mayday. It'll be an experience." Dad stirred the salad, put the spoon down exactly where Mom had left it and got away from the kitchen island.

I raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. Riiiight."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I heard the phone click in the other room, and a few seconds later Mom was back. She walked around the island, froze, and backpedaled to look into the salad bowl. "Peter! What did you do to my salad?"

"Huh? Did you say something?" Dad said innocently. "What did your brother want?"

Mom sighed. "Brace yourselves."

The TV clicked off in the middle of what had to be the most annoying theme song of the century. Benny's head popped up over the edge of the couch. "Was that your sibling Robert on the telephone, Mother?"

Mom gave Benny an odd look. "Benny, it's very unnerving when you do that."

"My name is Ben," Benny replied, with what he must have thought was dignity.

"Yeah, that was your Uncle Rob," Mom said.

"Uh-oh," I said, sitting down at the table. Uncle Rob, Mom's older brother, lived in Seattle, at what seemed like the other end of the world. He rarely called, mostly because he was a corporate businessman and usually too busy to check on his poorer relations. But when he did, it was rarely something pleasant.

Mom crossed her arms and said, "Uncle Rob's going on a trip to Tokyo. Business. Aunt Anne's going with him. They're leaving June first."

I blinked, wondering what was so grim about that. Mom continued. "And your cousin Ed's been called to active duty."

I let out my breath. Ed Watson, Uncle Rob's son, was twenty-four years old and had been in the military reserves for a long time. I didn't know him very well; the last time I had seen him was when I was eight years old. "That's not too bad. I mean, everything's basically over now, isn't it?"

"He's just going to Fort Bliss."

"Where is this Fort Bliss?" Benny asked.

"Texas," Dad said.

Mom continued, "But that leaves your other cousin with nowhere to spend the summer..."

"Oh, that's...what?" I gasped. "Andrea?"

"Bingo."

"Mom! You can't be serious!" I gaped at her, aghast. "She's so...so...I can't even describe her!"

"I can," Benny piped up. "But the word I'm considering I'm not permitted to use."

Benny!"

"It's Ben!"

"Hold on a minute. What's the big deal?" Dad stared between the three of us, confused.

Mom rolled her eyes. "Mayday and Andrea haven't gotten along since the Ming vase fiasco. Remember that?"

I threw up my hands. "I told you, I was framed!" Would I never hear the end of it? I was a little kid then, and I hadn't even broken it!

"I thought I fixed that vase," Dad mused.

"Peter, plastering the inside of my mother's vase with webbing to hold the pieces together is not 'fixing'."

Dad shrugged.

I buried my face in my hands and groaned. "How long?"

"Until Rob and Anne get back...in two months."

"Two months?" I wailed. "There goes our summer!"

Benny grabbed his throat, made a horrible strangled noise and collapsed dramatically on the floor with his tongue hanging out.

Dad raised an eyebrow. "Given up on your maturity kick, son?"

"Yeah," said Benny. "How could you tell?"

"Your summer isn't destroyed, Mayday!" Mom said, catching the look on my face. "I'll grant you, she's not the easiest girl to get along with..."

"What does this kid do?" Dad asked.

"She broke that Ming vase and framed me for it, she's not interested in anything but clothes and makeup, and she's mean! All-around mean!"

"There's really not much we can do about it now."

"She's going to be sharing my room, isn't she," I said gloomily. "And this day was going so well." I got up from the table. "I guess I'll go study my lines."

As I left the room, I called over my shoulder, "Oh, and I pulled off the Empire State Building free fall."

"You did what?" Mom gasped.

"Cool," said Benny.

"Well done!" Dad said. Mom swatted him on the arm with a dishtowel. "You're encouraging her!"

I made my exit.

Up in my room, I collapsed on my bed. Final exams had wrung me out, and the thrill of webswinging had worn off at the mention of Andrea Watson.

We were both fifteen, but we couldn't be more different. Not only had we never gotten along, on the few occasions we had seen each other, it was hard to believe we were cousins. Andrea had inherited the famous bright red Watson hair and blue eyes, while I had gotten my dad's messy dark hair.

Among other things that I had inherited from my dad.

I folded my hands behind my head and stared at the ceiling. It was the end of May. That made it eight months, heading into my first summer as Spider-Girl.

Eight months ago, I had been a bespectacled, shy, quiet high school sophomore who had been bullied and belittled all her life, with one good friend and a father who had been missing for five years.

But all that had changed one day in September, when I had gone home sick and woken up with muscles and web-shooters.

It had been fun, at first, though Mom hadn't seen it that way. She had been terrified that I would get myself killed, going out in a costume at night to round up muggers and gangsters. She had gotten used to it, after a few weeks.

Until Hobgoblin...my best friend Harry Osborn...and...and Black Widow...

I shivered and picked up the highlighted script of 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' that had arrived with the letter. Anything to avoid thinking about...I flipped ahead to Puck's entrance.

PUCK: How now, spirit! Whither wander you?

FAIRY: Over hill, over dale,

Throrough brush, throrough briar,

Over park, over pale,

Throrough flood, throrough fire,

I do wander everywhere.

Swifter than the moon's sphere...

But everything was all right now. Dad was home, Harry was back to normal, Black Widow was...gone. What could possibly happen now?

Other than the winner of Miss Most Malignant coming to spend the summer.

I skipped ahead in the play, chuckling at the crazy antics of Puck and at the misunderstanding of Helena and Lysander, and bursting into laughter as the mechanicals performed their terrible little play at Theseus's wedding.

Maybe they were right, maybe this would be fun. I had never been in a play before. Who knew?

I tossed the script onto my desk and resumed staring grouchily at the ceiling, determined to appreciate my last week of freedom even if it meant spending it in a bad mood.

When I opened my eyes again, the light of the streetlamp striped the floor through cracks in the blinds. I sat up, scrubbing a hand over my eyes. The clock read 11:52.

I yawned and shook my head. Had I really slept for six hours? I hadn't got much sleep the night before. A gang of professional thieves had tried a heist on the Metropolitan Museum of Art. They had probably been after the touring Vermeer exhibit, but the only art they'd be currently appreciating would be prison cell grafiti.

"I really need to get on a better schedule," I muttered. I froze for a moment and strained my ears. The house was silent, asleep.

Time to go patrolling.

I went into the bathroom and splashed water on my face, then came back into my room, pulling my sweatshirt off over my head. I usually wore my costume under my clothes wherever I went. It was my new design; my first costume had been shredded and burned months ago.

I was pretty proud of it. It was still the same basic design, which was actually a copy of Dad's old suit. I had kept the mask and color scheme the same as they had always been, but I had created a new spider pattern on the torso and back. I had had what I thought was the great idea of redoing the old underlying spiderweb pattern in silver, but Dad had killed the plan on the spot.

"Silver thread? Absolutely not. You'll glow in the dark. It'll be like wearing reflectors all over you. You'll be an easy target."

I opened my window and climbed out, shutting it quietly behind me. I tensed my legs and bounded off of the rooftop, sailing over a back yard to land on another roof. I kept it up, hopping rooftops north, swinging over the Queensboro Bridge and onto Manhattan Island.

The night was moonless and cool, but the city glowed with a million lights, blotting out the stars. I turned west and began swinging towards Chinatown. It had had a low crime rate lately, but it was always a fun place to visit. At different times of the year you could see paper lanterns painted with elaborate characters strung across the streets and angular, fantastically colored kites up for display.

There wasn't any reason why I couldn't get some sightseeing done!

I swung low over a street on the edge of Chinatown, caught hold of a lamp post and twirled around, crouched on the crossbar. It was noisy here, even though it was nearly midnight. Cars honking, people talking, sirens.

Sirens?

I raised my head and squinted down the street, where the red lights of three police cruisers and an ambulance whirled over brick walls, casting ghostly shadows around them. I slung a websline and swung down the street, somersaulting and landing directly at the side of a paramedic with a notepad.

The paramedic yelped as I dropped down beside him. "Hi." I waved a few fingers slightly. "What's going on here?"

The cars and the ambulance were pulled up in front of a two-story brick apartment complex that looked as if it had been empty for years. It's windows were filthy, some shattered, and the rusty fire escape hung skeletal from a few twisted beams. Already, a crowd of curious onlookers ringed the police tape stretched around the building.

The paramedic gaped at me. I sighed. The Spider-Girl me usually had that effect on people. "Well? What happened?"

"Look, what do you want? We've got it under control," a uniformed, pudgy officer grunted in my direction. I recognized him from awhile before.

I shrugged. "It was a simple question."

"There was a call to the station about fifteen minutes ago," the paramedic said. The policeman glared at him. Over his shoulder, I saw another officer leading two German shepherds on leashes into the building.

"Bombs? Drugs?" I asked. I never got involved in any drug raids; things like that I was more than happy to leave to the police.

"Probably the second. We got a call from the guy over there..." He waved in the direction of the ambulance, where another paramedic was taking the pulse of a shaken-looking elderly man. "About a lot of noise and fighting. But-"

"Shut up. It's none of her business," the policeman snapped.

I rolled my eyes. "You know, Officer Bannon, you seemed pretty glad that I was there to catch you when Hobgoblin threw you across Times Square last year."

I saw Bannon turn red, and it wasn't from the police lights. I heard the paramedic snort. I turned back to him, and he continued.

"There's no one in there. It was empty, except for him." He pointed again to the man sitting in the back off the ambulance. He was deathly pale, talking frantically to the paramedic who was staring around in frustration. "Can we get someone who can translate over here?"

A middle-aged man from the crowd came forward. "I can."

The paramedic shook her head. "Good. He can't speak English, and the only Chinese I know is 'nihao'."

The man from the crowd chuckled a little at that and stepped over the police tape. He went over to the ambulance and spoke to the elderly man.

He turned and let out a flood of language, wringing his hands as he spoke.

"He says," the translator said, "that they're all gone. And...that they've been punished for their crimes...wings..."

"Wings?" I asked.

The man looked up at me, started a little, and said, "He's just saying 'wings'. He says...it came from the sky...it had huge wings...like a giant bird...a hawk...like a giant hawk. And...huh?"

The translator repeated a word, and the old man nodded vigorously.

"What?" asked Bannon.

"He just said something about an old Han story. A fairy tale, about..." He repeated the word.

"What's it mean?" I asked.

The man paused, as if for the right words, and said, "Bird. Bird of death."

The elderly man shouted something else and stabbed a finger at the wall of the building, shouting the same phrase over and over.

"He says look, look! You can see all there is to see."

The old man pointed at the wall again. Bannon sighed and called, "Can someone get some light over there?"

A searchlight snapped on a revolved around to the wall, panning across the brick.

"Hold it! Move it back!" I yelled. I squinted into the darkness. Had I just seen what I thought I'd seen...?

The policeman operating the searchlight looked at Bannon. Bannon rolled his eyes, "Do it."

The light swept back over the wall, and Bannon yelled, "Hold it!"

"Holy..." Someone murmured.

Across the brick stretched four grooves, each nearly a foot long and an inch deep into the stone. Grooves with jagged edges, not worn by time.

The claw-marks of four gigantic talons.


	3. Chapter Two: Andrea

Chapter Two 

ONE WEEK LATER

'Bird of Death- Chinese legend (Han). A mythical, giant mountain eagle that could be summoned by a powerful wizard. The Bird of Death was often called upon to avenge an injustice or punish the one responsible by carrying him off and devouring him in its mountain lair.'

I closed the Encyclopedia of Mythology and set it down on the table. It was late in the day, a day of dragging the spare twin bed from the guest room up to my room and straightening up the house at breakneck speed.

I had planned to spend my last few hours of freedom webswinging around Manhattan, but Dad had warned me not to, with Andrea arriving so soon. "Better not risk it," he said.

He and Mom had driven off about thirty minutes ago for La Guardia airport to pick up Andrea. The afternoon was cloudy and strangely hot for the time of year.

I pushed my book away across the empty table top and rested my chin in my hands. I could see Benny's red hair sticking up from over the edge of the couch. The television screen was filled with jerky characters yelling at each other. "This is how I'm handling the stress. Don't disturb me," he had said earlier.

I scowled at the book. I couldn't believe the reaction when I had gotten home. Dad had gone through every explanation from hallucinating witnesses to lightning damage.

"Dad!" I had said. "You don't see anything slightly suspicious about this?"

"Mayday, this isn't that simple. You have to rule out the normal possibilities before you jump to conclusions. Some of the weirdest incidents have everyday explanations."

"How can giant claw marks have an everyday explanation?"

Dad, who had been drinking coffee at the time, had sipped his mug and said, "You'd be surprised how ridiculous it can get. There was this incident where a hysterical woman was claiming to have seen Doc Ock...did I tell you about him?"

"The guy with the arms? Yeah."

"She claimed to have seen a giant multilimbed shadow creeping around down her street."

"What was it? Did she really see him?" I asked.

"No, she saw the shadow of a big smiling octopus piñata hanging outside a party store on the corner. See what I mean?"

It had been hard to argue with that. After all, it was possible that there could have been a 'rational' explanation. At least, more rational than a mythical killer bird.

The phone rang. I stood up and answered it. "Parker residence."

"Hello, Clarice," said a deep voice on the other line.

"Hello, Dr. Lecter," I said brightly. "Sadly, there is no one here for you to devour without upsetting side effects, such as a serious concussion. However, there is a certain resident of three-twenty-four Park Avenue who is really asking to be eaten. Look for the guy with the glider and the moronic grin. Goodbye."

I hung up and looked at the clock. "Three...two...one..."

The phone rang again. I picked it up. "Just so you know, Harry, my refrigerator is not running."

"Some friend you are. Just got through handing me over to a freakish cannibal, huh?" Harry said.

"As a future mad scientist yourself, you'd probably get along," I said.

"Someone's in a lousy mood."

"You'd be too, if you had Lady Macbeth arriving in an hour," I said grouchily.

"An hour? Good, that's long enough."

"Long enough for what?" I asked, glancing wearily at the clock. It was June, and the sunlight lasted long into the evening, but the fog and cloud would cause it to get darker much more quickly.

I could hear the grin in Harry's voice as he answered. "A test drive."

"Oh, you're done?" Harry had been working on something that he'd refused to divulge for the last five months. I had pretty much worked out what it was: a new glider. The last one, the one that had belonged to his father, and later to Hobgoblin, had been destroyed along with the rest of the drilling rig in the explosion.

A few memories trickled through with that thought, but I shoved them away. Harry said, "I finished last night. Good thing, too; Aunt Beth decided to check out the basement. I only just got it out in time. Can I come over?"

"On the glider? Bad idea."

"That obvious, huh?" Harry said. "I'll ask Wells to drive me."

"While we mere mortals have to rely on weblines for transportation," I joked. "See you."

"Bye."

I hung up. I couldn't leave Benny by himself; I could only hope that Mom and Dad got home before Harry arrived. That reminded me of Andrea, and my mood soured even further.

Two months! Two months of sharing my room with Andrea, my cousin. Two months of not being able to talk comfortably at home. Andrea criticized everything. There could be no, "MJ, have you seen the lens cap for the Nikon?" without Andrea pointing out that her dad always knew where his things were. No, "The Amazing Spider-Boy to the rescuuuue!" without her remarking that she was so glad to have an older brother, because little kids were so noisy. No, "Uh...maybe we'd better call out for pizza," without Andrea commenting that her mom knew how to cook and never needed to experiment with food.

And definitely no, "No web-shooting in the house!"

The doorbell rang. I headed for the door. A second later Benny barreled into me. "Mayday! It's her!"

I frowned, reaching for the doorknob. "But they just left half and hour ago. How could she..._aah_!" I jumped backwards as a tremendous suitcase landed at my feet, barely missing my toes.

"Told ya," Benny muttered.

The pudgy man at the door dropped another suitcase on top of it, more massive than the first. "Hi, miss. Where d'ya want these?" He had a thick Brooklyn accent.

"What is this stuff?" I asked.

The man shrugged. "Passenger said this was d'place. Hang on, I got another trunk in d'back."

"Another one?"

"Yeah." The man turned and walked back down the sidewalk to his waiting taxi, where a girl was standing with her arms crossed. She was dressed in a black blouse and slacks with the highest platform shoes I had ever seen, and black sunglasses. She had bright red hair and was holding a tiny handbag.

I didn't bother wondering who would be wearing sunglasses on a cloudy day. Andrea Watson. Who else could manage to cram two suitcases the size of military tanks and a trunk into a taxicab?

A taxicab?

I ran out onto the porch. "Andrea! What are you doing in a cab? Mom and Dad just went to pick you up!"

Andrea looked at me over the tops of her sunglasses. "Is that you, May? And...my God, _what_ are you _wearing_?"

I stopped in my tracks and looked down. "Clothes."

Andrea shook her head as if she couldn't fathom the depths of my ignorance. "How can you go outside wearing that?"

"It's a top and jeans!"

"Bill Blass bootcuts and a T-shirt that says 'Space Center Houston'. Oh, yeah, you're May all right."

The taxi driver puffed his way up the walk with the trunk on his shoulder, red-faced. "Do you need help?" I asked.

"I...just need to...cut back on...those donuts," the taxi driver wheezed, and lost his grip. I leaned forward and caught the end.

"Oh...thanks..."

"No problem," I steered the trunk to the porch just as the taxi driver dropped his end heavily. He grinned at me and wiped his forehead. "Ya work out or somethin'?"

"Oh, a little," I said quickly. Andrea was walking up the path, and I turned back to her. "My parents just drove to La Guardia to get you! They called Uncle Rob and told him that they'd pick you up! What are you doing in a cab? No offense," I said to the driver.

"None taken," he replied, leaning against the wall and mopping his forehead.

Andrea took off her sunglasses and folded them daintily. "I wasn't going to wait all day in the pollution. I hailed a cab. How do you people breathe in this place?" She gave a false little cough.

"So you just _left_? You knew they were coming to pick you up!"

"I never claimed to be a patient person."

I gaped at her, not believing that she could be so inconsiderate. "They're going to show up and think you've been abducted or something!" I could just imagine Mom on the phone with the police and Dad rushing out to search the city.

Andrea glared. "And what do you want me to do about it now?"

"I'll go call Mom's cell phone," Benny said, and ran for the telephone. I glared back at Andrea, then finally blurted out, "You made them waste their time and...and gasoline is expensive!"

"Yeah, I guess it would be for _your_ family," said Andrea.

I started mentally counting to ten when the taxi driver coughed, looking pointedly at Andrea.

"Andrea," I said, none too politely.

"What?"

I glanced at the driver and back to her, hoping she would get the message.

She didn't. "I already paid him."

"Andrea," I said, very clearly, "he just carried your bags in for you."

"So?"

"Tip him," I whispered.

Andrea stared at me as if I were an alien. The taxi driver rolled his eyes. "Forget it." He started off down the steps.

"No, wait!" I rushed inside, grabbed my purse and fumbled for my wallet. Twenty miles to La Guardia, at around one seventy-five per mile and a fifteen percent tip...I came back and handed the driver five dollars and thirty-five cents.

"Thanks." He headed back to his cab and drove off, leaving me on the porch with my cousin and three suitcases the size of Volkswagens.

I sighed. "All right, come on." I picked up the nearest bag. "It's upstairs...what?" I asked, when I noticed Andrea hadn't moved.

"Do you lift weights or something?"

I had just picked up a fifty pound trunk with one hand! My fingers were clinging to the lid. I dropped it hastily. "Oh, no, it's just, um...sugar rush."

Andrea shrugged. "Whatever." She tugged futilely at the handle of one of the suitcases just as Benny came up behind her and easily picked up the other one. "I called Mom. They're coming back."

Andrea stared at him.

Benny said, "What?" and jogged up the stairs.

"Um...he's always been really strong," I said lamely. It was true; Benny had always been very strong for his age. Now that I remembered, so had I, even though you wouldn't have guessed it from the amount of times I had been beaten up.

I made a show of being exhausted by the time we had dragged the suitcases up to my room. Benny had dropped his by the door and mysteriously vanished. Andrea threw her bags on the twin bed that we had brought up from the guest room. My own bed was now shoved against the opposite wall.

"What _is_ all of this stuff?" Andrea asked.

"That would be a bed, a desk, a lamp, and a bookcase," I responded, not very cordially. My mood was going bad faster than a dead fish on a hot day.

"No, these." Andrea went over and picked up the book from the shelf. "'The Rainbow People: A Collection of Chinese Fairy Tales'?"

It starts, I thought. "That's...that's actually a research project."

Andrea tossed the book back onto the shelf and pulled out another, knocking over a collection of little knickknacks. "'Kidnapped', by Robert Louis Stevenson?"

"It's a classic!"

Andrea snorted and dropped the book like a dead rat. "If that's not unfeminine, I don't know what is."

"_Unfeminine_?" I spluttered. "It's not-"

"Keep thinking that, May."

Andrea continued scrutinizing my bookcase as I crossed my arms and scowled at the floor. I had been building up my library for years, and now it was enough for a floor-to-ceiling bookcase that took up almost an entire wall of my bedroom. It had almost everything, mysteries, adventure, fantasy, science fiction, even a stray Goosebumps book, memento of the second grade, that I had accidentally forgotten to donate. I had put in some non-fiction, too: science, history, and several books from my ancient Egypt phase.

I sighed and almost escaped downstairs before realizing that I didn't want Andrea in my room unsupervised. I sat down on the edge of my bed, taking a sip from the bottle of water on my desk. A picture of Harry and I, making crazy faces, was on the desk. I opened a drawer and hid it quickly. The last thing I needed was Andrea to ask how we'd gotten to the top of the Brooklyn Bridge.

Andrea was examining the back cover of _Jane Eyre_. "Who would take the time to write this?"

I gaped at her. "_Jane Eyre_? That's one of my favorites! Charlotte Brontë's a genius! And don't throw it, put it back where you got it!"

"_This_?"

"Have _you_ read it?" I asked pointedly.

Andrea tossed her hair, scowled at me, and began rummaging through her bags. She pulled out a pair of binoculars and headed for the window.

I groaned inwardly. "_Now_ what are you doing?"

Andrea sniffed. "Checking out the neighborhood, obviously." She raised the binoculars and peered out the window.

"That's really rude."

"Who are you, Miss Manners? What's the...whoa!"

Andrea craned her neck. "Who's that hot guy getting out of the Bentley down the street?"

"I can't believe you're spying on...getting out of the what?" I asked. "Did you say Bentley?"

Oh, _no_!

Harry! He always got out a block away because the car embarrassed him.

"Wow," Andrea said. "Nice hair. Maybe he'll turn this way again. He's in a short-sleeved shirt, too! And-"

"Okay, stop that!" I snapped. She was talking about Harry like...well...I felt my face turning red. He was my best friend, for crying out loud!

"What's with you? Ooh, look, he's coming this way! Nice! What's a guy like him doing around here?"

"Maybe going to a friend's house?"

Andrea snorted. "Yeah, right. Who would he be coming to see? You? Don't be dumb."

I got up, stood behind Andrea and began to wave frantically out the window, hoping Harry would get the message and turn back. A few drops of water splashed on the windowpane.

Andrea turned. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," I said innocently. She turned back to the window.

"No way! He's coming down the street!" Andrea squealed. I stared out the window, appalled. Harry was now three houses away, blissfully unaware of his imminent doom.

Andrea dropped the binoculars and dashed out of the room, her platforms clomping on the stairs. She was heading for the front door!

"Oh, no!" I crossed the room in one bound and cleared the stairs in another. The front door was open, and Andrea was already down the sidewalk.

I covered my face with my hand and groaned, awaiting the aftermath.

Andrea was standing in the middle of the yard with the hose, looking like she was about to water the flowers. I rolled my eyes.

Harry paused halfway down the front walk, confused. Andrea giggled idiotically and said, "Hi."

"Uh, hi," Harry said, stopping dead in his tracks. He probably wondered for a moment whether he had the right house. "Is Mayday home?"

Andrea giggled again and said, "Who?"

Harry was starting to look faintly irritated. "Mayday Parker. This is her house. Who are you?"

Andrea tossed her hair and smiled. "Oh, no, I live here."

That did it. I went out the door and said, "Hi, Harry. Andrea, what are you doing out there with the hose?"

I didn't think I'd ever seen Harry look more relieved. Andrea gave me a furious glare. "Mayday, can't you see we're having a conversation?"

"No, we aren't," Harry said firmly, and continued walking up the path. "Is the psycho your cousin?" he muttered.

"She's here to stay," I responded gloomily.

Andrea had abandoned the plant care ruse and was clattering up the path behind Harry. I sighed; it was too late now. "Harry, this is my cousin Andrea Watson. Andrea, this is Harry Osborn."

"Hey, Harry," Benny called from the den, having gravitated back to his cartoon.

"Hey," Harry said.

Andrea smiled in what she must have thought was a winning way. "Your last name's Osbourne? Like the rock star?"

"No, Osborn like the...never mind," Harry said, throwing me a desperate look. I knew the last thing he wanted was for Andrea to find out about Quest Aerospace and the inheritance.

"Just Osborn," I said. Andrea glared at me without moving her smile.

"Well, Harry," she simpered. "What are you doing around here?"

Harry gave Andrea a look of active dislike. "Well, I was going to..." He stopped in midsentence and glanced at me over Andrea's head. I shook my head frantically and mouthed, "She doesn't know!"

"Uh...ask Mayday...if she wanted to...to go to the movies!" Harry blurted.

I took another sip of water just as Andrea said, "Oh, that's nice. A date?"

I choked.

"No! We're just going to go see...a movie. That's all!" I said, coughing. Of all the things to say, she had to pick that one!

"A date with Mayday? Come on," Harry agreed, blushing from his collar to the roots of his hair.

Hey! What was that supposed to mean?

"What movie?" Andrea asked. Harry and I exchanged glances.

"The new one," I said.

"Yeah, the new one," Harry agreed quickly. "The one with that guy."

"Yeah. That guy," I added pitifully.

"Ahem! Ahem!"

Benny was leaning against the doorframe, going "Ahem! Ahem! Whoa, this is weird! Too bad Mayday isn't here watching this news flash that just interrupted 'Yu-Gi-Oh'!" He said, at the top of his lungs.

Harry snorted. Andrea looked at Benny as if she thought that there was something seriously wrong with him. I practically ran for the den.

"Thank you, Benny." I whispered to my brother as I passed. He shrugged. "Just doin' m'job, ma'am."

Harry followed me in, with Andrea right at his heels. Benny bounced down on the couch. I muttered to Harry, "Just wondering. Where's your glider?"

"In my pocket."

"What?"

The television drowned out his answer as Benny turned up the volume. "This is the second time that police have arrived on the scene to find that they've been beaten to the punch. Live from the scene, here's Daryl Tillman. What's it look like, Daryl?"

The screen quickly switched from a newsroom to the face of a reporter. He was standing in front of a brick wall covered in faded graffiti. I saw a shattered window just over his shoulder and a street sign just by the corner. It was a street in the Bronx, if I remembered correctly. Fog was swirling in front of the camera; it looked like it was thickening by the minute.

"Just a few minutes ago, police received an emergency call to this location," the reporter said. "The call reported loud noises and the sounds of a struggle. When authorities arrived, however, they found what you see here. A deserted building."

The camera zoomed out to take in the lower floors of the building. It looked like an old abandoned hotel. They were pretty common in that part of the city. Something caught my eye, and I blinked. There was something strange about the building...

"The windows are all broken," I said. It was true; every window within sight was shattered or cracked.

"Shh," Harry said.

"Witnesses reported hearing an extremely high-pitched noise during the struggle," continued the reporter. "But the source of such a sound has yet to be discovered. It could possibly account for this." He gestured at the shards of glass littering the sidewalk below.

"Um, hello? Why are we watching this?" Andrea said. I had almost forgotten she was there. No one answered her.

"In addition, we've managed to get some of the police photographs taken from the inside of the Shamrock Hotel, where the struggle presumably took place. This is a picture taken of something found inside."

A Polaroid image took the place of the reporter. It was blurry, but the object pictured was easy to make out. It was a mix of gray and brown, thin...a feather. It was a feather.

A feather nearly two feet long.

I distantly heard the door open behind us, and Mom's voice saying, "No consideration at all! An hour driving! An hour!"

"Mom! Dad!" I yelled, running back into the front hall. Harry hurried after me, with Andrea following him like a devoted terrier. Dad was giving Andrea a less-than-friendly look as he shut the door, and Mom was scowling outright. I grabbed Harry and pulled him into the room. "We're just going to go see that movie now, aren't we, Harry?"

They looked a little surprised to see him there. Harry nodded quickly, and I continued. "You know, that one about the giant bird of death?"

Dad's eyebrows went up and Mom's glower melted into concern as they exchanged a meaningful glance. I heard Benny bounce into the room behind us.

"Wait...there's no 'bird of death' movie in the theaters," Andrea chimed in, her voice suspicious. "I keep track of-"

"Hah hah! Of course there is! Let's go!" I hurried forward, and Mom pulled me into a hug. I felt a stab of guilt as I saw the worried expression I knew all too well. "Don't take any chances," she whispered.

"I won't," I said. She let go, and Dad said, "If you need any help...getting home, I'll be watching the news. For traffic, I mean." He said the last part loudly for Andrea's benefit. She was looking at all of us as if we were all mad and dangerous.

"Harry," Dad nodded to him. Mom forced a smile. I suppressed a sigh. Ever since she had found out the truth about Harry, she hadn't been all that welcoming to him, even after his recovery.

Harry stepped out, and I shut the door behind us. The fog had somehow enveloped the street since Harry had walked in. Mist rolled across the yard, swirling around cars and glowing in the light of street lamps.

"So. Giant birds, disappearing criminals...what a way to start the summer," said Harry.

I grinned lopsidedly. "It's better than being bored. Let's go check this out."


	4. Chapter Three: Bird of Death

Chapter Three

        The alley behind the Rosenbaum watch shop was where I usually changed before coming home, and where we headed. The street lamps shone eerily suspended in the fog like ghost lights. A single car crawled past and vanished. 

        "Okay, tell. Where's your glider, again?" I asked Harry as we stopped at the entrance of the alley. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a metallic square about the size of his palm. I stared at it, then at him. He smiled.

        "You might want to stand back."

        Harry pulled back his arm and hurled the square like a boomerang. It spun off into the fog.

        I raised my eyebrows. Harry said, "It takes a few seconds."

        A strange, loud clicking echoed down the street, and I saw the square returning, spinning back like a Frisbee, nearly twice the size it had been a moment ago. It seemed to be stretching, expanding in midair, three, four, five times its size. Swept back wings unfolded from its sides with a sudden snap and it halted abruptly at Harry's feet, hovering a foot above the ground.

        "It's collapsible," Harry said.

        I stared at it, my eyes wide. The glider at Harry's feet was built in the shape of a streamlined bat. The entire craft was nearly five feet from wingtip to wingtip, with curved wings that had a strange, greenish shimmer to them. I crouched down and ran my fingers over the surface tentatively. The metal wavered under my fingers; it had a strange texture as if the steel had been formed out of liquid. Harry's old glider, the one that had belonged to his father, seemed clunky and stilted, like the Wright brothers' plane to an Air Force jet.

        I heard the sliding of metal plates and saw Harry's armor building itself around him from a pair of green gauntlets on his hands. I gaped at him.

        "Harry, how...how the heck did you _do this?"_

        Harry pulled his helmet down over his head and raised the eye shields. "A lot of late nights."

        "How did...how..." I was at a loss for words. I always known he was good with machines, and that he had done stuff like taking his aunt's car apart and putting it back together, but I'd never imagined that he could build something like_ this_! This was incredible!

        "I can't take all the credit," Harry said modestly. "The infrastructure's basically the same as the old one, except that it's jointed for flexibility. I hooked up its mainframe and targeting systems to a few terminals in the workshop and rewrote some of the parameters. It's a souped up version of the prototype."

        "You're not kidding!" I stood up. "What's it made of? The surface? And...wait a minute," I said, peering at the glider again. "How do you even stay on it? There aren't any clamps."

        "Like this." Harry stepped aboard the glider and braced his feet. He made a slight movement of his head, and to my astonishment, I saw the metal of the glider begin to ripple like water around his feet. It oozed around the base of the armored boots and solidified, locking them in solid metal.

        "Treated cendequatrium. Element one hundred and fourteen. It's an artificial metalloid. You'd be really surprised to see what they're doing in Quest Aerospace with this stuff."

        "It's got the properties of a solid and a liquid? This is a new phase of matter! Harry, you're a genius!"

        "I know," he grinned.

        "And very modest, too," I said, still stunned. "I'll...I'll go on and..."

        I stepped into the alley, pulled my T-shirt off over my head and rolled down the sleeves of my Spider-Girl costume; I wore it almost everywhere under my normal clothes. As I slid my mask over my head, I wondered. 

        Harry didn't take school very seriously at all. He did what was required, turned in homework he did hastily between classes, and was perfectly satisfied with whatever grade he got. He read whatever he wanted, researched projects when he felt like it, and had admitted freely that he found the _In the Wake of the Plague_, the required history text, to be the worst book he'd ever read. Teachers called him average, undisciplined and unmotivated, and shook their heads sadly at the mention of his name.

        And yet he had spent five months single-handedly putting together a piece of technology so amazingly sophisticated that most of the people in the world didn't know existed. On his own, in secret, with nothing but some old blueprints and materials scrounged from Quest Aerospace, formerly OsCorp.

        I had never realized how truly brilliant my best friend was.

        I stuffed my outer clothes and shoes into the backpack I had stationed in the alley a few days before and did a front handspring back to the sidewalk to warm up. Harry was hovering impatiently on his glider, his eye shields lowered so that they were opaque yellow.

        I cracked my knuckles. "Okay, let's-_hey!"_

        The glider blasted straight up in the air with a roar that must have rattled windows in Newark, revolved to the north, and jetted away into the fog like a missile. My jaw dropping, I bounded up the wall of the watch shop and took off in a sprint over the rooftops. I couldn't even see him through the murk; I could only follow the noise of the glider, and the buildings in Queens weren't nearly tall enough for webswinging.

        The Queensboro bridge loomed up suddenly and I leaped from the last building, shot a webline, and was hurtling towards the pavement. The line pulled taut, swinging me up in a wide arc and sending me flying towards the first skyscraper of Manhattan island. I landed on the roof and skidded to a stop.

        Harry drifted down in front of me. "Mayday! Did you see this thing _go_?" He crowed, "I clocked it! Two hundred miles and hour! Two hundred!"

        "I...noticed..." I wheezed. "But you sound like a jet...when you fly..."

        "Oh, yeah, I can tone it down. You ain't seen nothin' yet. Wait'll you see what _else_ this baby can do-"

        "Harry," I said. "I hate to spoil this for you, but we really have a job to do here."

        "Oh," Harry said. "Right. Sorry."

        We started off again, Harry flying more slowly and silently. We were above the mist now, and it felt like swinging between layers of clouds. Manhattan Island was nearly twelve miles long. Harry probably could have made the trip in a few minutes, if it weren't for my webswinging. The fog muffled all sounds below, and the city was eerily silent.

        We crossed into the Bronx. The Shamrock Hotel was right on the waterfront. The police were still there below, and the whole area was surrounded by yellow tape. But the sky was empty.

        "So, now what?" Harry asked. 

        Time to get down to business. I peered over the edge of the hotel's roof. "We'd better take a look around. Split up. This thing sounds like it can fly...so, think you can keep watch above the fog?"

        Harry shrugged. "Sure. A giant bird should be pretty hard to miss, if that's what it is."

        "Okay. I'll keep under the fog. Say, back here in an hour?"

        He nodded. 

        "See you then." I stepped off the roof and fell feet first through the mist, shooting web from both wrists to break my fall. The streets of the Bronx were deserted.

        "That's weird," I muttered. The Bronx wasn't as busy as Manhattan at night, but it was rarely empty like this. I held my breath, waiting to see if my spider-sense would start tingling. It didn't.

        I hopped building-to-building, squinting through the fog. I didn't see anything at all, and my mind started to wander, mostly to the situation at home.

        Seriously, what was _wrong_ with my cousin? How was I going to survive the summer sharing my room with her? Frankly, I would have rather taken a round with some spiderbots. She had just been in the house for ten minutes when-

        "Aaaaah! Aaaaah! Help me! Help me!"

        I fired a short webline and sailed across the street to land crouched on the corner of a small office building. It was a man's voice screaming, loud and hysterical. I strained my ears. Running footsteps, coming down the sidewalk in my direction. I released my grip and dropped, landing in the middle of the sidewalk just as he appeared out of the mist. I stood up.

        "Hey, what's the problem?"

        He skidded to a stop in front of me, and in the dim light I could make out an expression of abject terror. "No, no, no, no, not you!"

        He turned and ran a few steps, then came scrambling back. "No! I don't care if you turn me in, just help me! Please! Please!"

        He was a man in a baseball cap and windbreaker. His face was white and his eyes were wide. "Please! Save me! It's coming! It's gonna kill me!"

        "Whoa, hold on! What's going to kill you?" I asked, more than a little rattled. "There's nothing-"

        Not a second after the words had left my mouth my spider-sense exploded, shrieking a wild alarm. A half-second after that, the night was cut by an earsplitting screech. 

        "_Aaaah!_" I yelled and clapped my hands over my ears, tears of pain leaking from my eyes. It was horrible, louder than a fire truck's siren, bouncing off the sides of buildings and echoing back louder and higher than before, again and again and again. I saw windows shattering, glass raining down to the ground. My head was throbbing. I couldn't move, could barely breathe...

        The man screamed and fell onto the pavement, hands over his ears, writhing in agony. I stumbled against a wall, and I saw it. It came out of the mist, blurry and indistinct, gliding like a deadly bird of prey. Bird of death. Two huge wings flapped once, shot low over the ground, and two talons snatched the man off the sidewalk and vanished into the fog.

        "Oh, my..." I shoved myself away from the wall and tried to websling. The scene wavered before my eyes as if it were underwater. I staggered, forced myself to think, to aim...

        The pain was fading. I leaped into the air and took off, feeling sweat break out over my forehead. In the silence there was a slow, steady rush of air: the beating of wings. I raced after it, straight into the fog, totally blind.

        What _was_ this_ thing? It had paralyzed me with that noise, grabbed the man, and I hadn't been able to do anything! Where was Harry? Maybe he could catch up to it on the glider; I couldn't even see, and could barely hear after that noise._

        I swung haphazardly, running along walls and sliding down a stray power line, narrowly missing windows and corners. Once or twice I felt my web shoot into empty space, nearly sending me headfirst into the concrete. The thing was flying in a straight line, right down the main avenue. I had to catch up to it, I had to!

        "Come on..._come on_..."

        I saw the outline of a tall building come up on the left, and I shot a line to its very top, swinging wildly fast, almost out of control. I gritted my teeth, straining to keep my grip and follow the wingbeats with ringing ears. I was getting close, almost there...

        I saw wings again, so close that I could make out individual feathers. I couldn't see anything else, just wings. It was right under me.

        I dropped the webline and fell straight down, slamming my feet right into the space between its wings.

        "_Oof!_"

        Since when did birds go 'oof'?"

        The wings spun and tumbled down, sending me after them. Thinking fast, I shot web from both wrists, a guaranteed fall-breaker. I heard a heavy thud, and a scream of pain. It was the man.

        I landed in a crouch. Where was that coming from? The murk drifted around the street lamps. I walked a few steps towards the closest, squinting. My spider-sense was ringing, buzzing almost like an electrical shock.

        "Oh my god! Oh my god!" 

        I spun around. The man was screaming, repeating the same words in a desperate chant.

        I called, "Where are y-"

        "_Aaaaaaah! _No! _Nooooo!_"

        I ran forward, feeling a sour taste in the back of my throat. Someone was going to be killed, ten feet away, and I couldn't even see! 

        I stumbled around, whirling in panic, when I saw the man again. He was on the ground, dragging himself on his elbows into the light from a stifled lamp. His leg was broken.

        I rushed forward. Something stepped into the light behind him and I skidded to a halt. I gasped. Were my eyes working?

        Because I could see a person standing there. I could see what looked like a brightly-colored garment, a green suit with a bright yellow belt. Then boots, then gloves, then collar, then mask.

        Mask. I could make out a yellowish mask, the color of a bird's beak. It was swept forward, out from the face with a hooked end, covering the top half of the person's face in a mask molded in the shape of the head of a bird of prey.

        It was a girl, or maybe a young woman. She was much taller than I was, and when she stepped forward again I saw, rising from her shoulder blades, two gigantic, feathered wings. 

        The man turned over and shrieked. She made a strange leap, almost like a pounce, and grabbed the man by the throat, heaving him up off the ground and over her head.

        "Did you think you could get away from me, little rat?" She whispered.

        "Please!" The man gurgled helplessly, kicking his good leg. "Let me go! I'll never do it again! I'll-" A strangled gasp left him as the person raised her left hand in front of his face, and I saw thin, black eagle talons extending from the fingertips of her gloves.

        "I'm making sure you'll _never do it again. No, tonight, justice is served!"_

        She swung back her hand, about to rake her claws across his face, and I fired, completely enveloping her hand in webbing.

        "_What...!_"

        I sprang forward, slamming into her and sending her sprawling. The man dropped to the ground and I leaped in front of him, tense, ready, eyes narrowed. She stumbled to her feet, and I saw eyes blazing furiously at me through her mask.

        "You! What are you doing? How dare you interfere with me!"

        "What do you think _you're_ doing? You tried to kill him!" I yelled.

        "He deserves death. I am only the instrument of punishment," she said.

        The first question that came into my head was _Who wrote your lines? but I shouted, "What are you talking about?"_

        She jerked her head in a strange, birdlike movement."You're Spider-Girl, aren't you?"

        "You must be new in town," I said, trying to sound cockier than I actually felt. "Who are you?"

        _What_ was_ she? Those wings growing from her back were real. They didn't look mechanical or tied on, at least not that I could see. Now that she had spoken, I was sure that she wasn't much older than I was, maybe eighteen or nineteen._

        She hissed, ignoring my question, "Then it's you! You are the weak one who allows this to happen."

        My temper flared. "I beg your pardon? I don't take well to insults from would-be murderers."

        "Murderer?" She threw back her head and laughed, a harsh cawing noise. "I am no more a murderer than a noose or an axe or a needle. I deliver justice to those who deserve it, like that cringing animal over there."

        "You're a vigilante," I said, realizing. "You can't do this."

        "You speak without knowledge," she said, tearing the webbing from her left hand. _Tearing_ it. The mist swirled around her like a whirlpool. "I watch. I saw what happened." She stabbed a clawed finger at the man cowering behind me. "Do you know who you protect?"

        I said nothing, and she continued harshly. "Just an hour ago, during the day, I saw this man try to abduct a young child. He dragged her to his car. I stunned him and gave the girl a chance to escape, and this man a head start. And then..." Her mouth stretched into a malignant grin. She raised her talons. "I went hunting."

        I didn't move. The man behind me was scum. Filth. The lowest, vilest of criminals. The kind that I had handed over to the police, knowing that he was on his way to a long time behind bars. 

        This was the man lying on the pavement.

        And I was _protecting_ him!

        "You see?" She said. "Now stand aside. I need to complete my work. The work _you_ should have carried out for this long time, and Spider-Man before you."

        I braced my feet and tensed my arms, folding my hands into fists. "You mean _killing_ everyone we catch?" My voice trembled. She was insane to even suggest something like that! "We aren't the law, and neither are you!"

        "I give justice to those who deserve it, while you moralize and let the system do your dirty work."

        "Who are you to decide that?" I threw back at her. "Who are you to be his judge and jury?"

        "Judge, jury, and executioner. Now_ stand aside, Spider-Girl." She took a step forward. I raised my fists._

        "If you come any closer, you'll get nothing but a fight. It's one of the things this moralizer is rather good at." I lowered my voice. "I've tackled things much more frightening than you, things that make a feathered vigilante look like a tinsel fairy. So I suggest _you stand aside."_

        There was utter silence as we glared at each other, broken only by the terrified gasps of the man on the ground. His fate was being decided in front of him.

        "I could stun you the way I did before and there would be nothing you could do," she said.

        "Then try it," I responded evenly. 

        The seconds stretched on. "Leave," I said, trying to keep my uneasiness out of my voice.

        She seemed wary, uncertain, as if she thought I was leading her into some trap. Then she backed away.

        "You are too weak to do what must be done. You don't have the strength to defend this city."

        "And I suppose _you_ do?" I growled. "By murdering? You're taking lives! You're descending to the same level as the people you hunt!"

        "One must go into savagery to defeat the savage," she said. "Descend into crime to defeat the criminal. Fine. I won't pursue this rodent any further." She nodded at the man. "But as for _you..." She turned, and I saw avian eyes blazing through her mask. She pointed at me._

        "You inhibit justice. You don't allow scum to get their just reward. Then you are also in opposition to me. You must also be removed if I am to continue my work."

        "And you're as much a criminal as the rest of them. If we cross paths again, I'll make sure the next thing you see will be a prison cell."

        She snorted. "We will see." She took another step backwards, fading into the fog. "Watch your back, Spider-Girl."

        She stood there, half shrouded in mist. Her wings unfolded to their full length, almost a twenty foot wingspan. The wings lifted and flapped once, sending tiny tornados of mist swirling around her, and she shot up through the fog and vanished.

        Silence.

        "Th-thank you," the man groveled, crawling forward on his hands and knees. "You saved me-"

        "Get away from me," I snapped. "You're disgusting. I didn't save you so you could go running off again. You're going to be taking a  ride in a squad car, pal."

        I turned and shot web from both wrists, pinning his arms to his sides. Careful not to touch any of him other than the web, I grabbed him and leaped into the air, slinging and swinging back through the fog in the direction of the Shamrock Hotel.

        Great. Just great! What a day this had been, and what a way to start the summer. Andrea and a murderous vigilante with wings. I didn't even want to try to come up with an explanation for someone who seemed to be half bird. Somehow the idea of being bitten by a genetically enhanced hawk just seemed ridiculous.

        The man had the sense to keep his mouth shut as I dropped down in the crowd of police officers and reporters still surrounding the hotel, provoking many startled yelps. I tossed the guy into the hands of two officers.

        "You might want to try interviewing people in the area about attempted abductions," I said.

        "What do you want_ now_?"

        I sighed. I knew that voice all to well. As the police officers hustled the thug into an ambulance, I turned. "Bannon, I'm really not in the mood for this."

        He came jogging through the crowd. "We've got it covered. That's what police are for."

        "What are you doing here, anyway?" I asked.

        "I'm assigned to this case," he replied smugly. "And I can tell you that we'll be able to handle whatever comes up _on our own."_

        "No you won't, man!" It was the criminal, sitting up on an ambulance gurney as another officer read him his rights. "It's a monster! It's got huge claws and it-."

        "Hey, hey, comin' through, people! What was that?" A man with a tape recorder and a camera around his neck hustled forward. 

        "Jerry Mason from the _Daily Bugle. Can I get your statement on that?"_

        Well, this just kept getting better and better. Jerry Mason, the pet reporter of J. Jonah Jameson himself, the endless crusader against Dad, and now me. The man went off, describing in highly exaggerated detail about a woman with wings who had nearly mauled him and eaten him alive.

        I sighed. I was planning to go an sit up on the roof and wait for Harry to arrive. The whole thing had taken only about thirty minutes, and on that glider he could have been anywhere. 

        The criminal was packed into the ambulance and Jerry Mason was ushered away, already barking into his cell phone. I hopped up onto the wall and began to crawl upwards, just as Jerry rushed to his car.

        "I'm serious, he said that's what she looked off. Spider-Girl just showed up..."

        I heard faintly Jameson's voice yelling on the other end, and Jerry said, "I don't know, I think they had a showdown or something. I don't think they're working together..."

        More shouting from Jameson, and Jerry said, "Boss, I'm not good at making up names...yeah...well, 'Hobgoblin' was kind of easy to come up with...what was that? What? Sorry? No, I'm not deaf, Mr.. Jameson...yes, I had my hearing checked last month...okay. How's this for a headline. "_Daily Bugle Tells All: Criminal Menaced by Ladyhawk!"_


	5. Chapter Four: Shrewd and Knavish Sprite

Chapter Four

        Monday. Play practice.

        The same headline shouted up from the kitchen table when I stumbled downstairs at eight-thirty, thumbing through my still-new script, trying to remember my lines. As Cobweb, I had relatively little to say after my opening speech with Puck. More or less, "And I", "Where shall we go?", and "Cobweb."_ That was a relief. I had never dared tell Mom about the other reason I hadn't been in a play since I was a sheep in a first-grade Christmas pageant._

        It was...well...something called stage fright. Something that, at the thought of a bright lights and costumes and hundreds of people watching, made my insides squirm.

        I yawned, tossing my script down somewhere. I had gotten very little sleep that night, from my spider-sense buzzing at strange moments to Andrea flipping on the lights at 3:25 to ask, "Is Harry Osborn's real name Harold?"

        I could practically feel my nerve endings sparking by the time I got to the kitchen. It was officially summer, and yet Mom and Dad were both rushing around for coffee and toast. It was still a work day for both of them, after all. Benny wasn't helping, as he was dashing around the house in a cowboy hat yelling about time machines. 

        "Pete, tell him it's not your area," Mom was saying as I entered the kitchen. "You're not in the entertainment department. It's not fair."

        "Yeah, but I said a long time ago I'd cover for Turner when he went back to Orlando. Jameson's holding me to it, as usual."

        "What's going on?" I asked sleepily as I reached for a piece of toast.

        "Jameson's sending me to the circus," Dad said. "That European one that's come to town. I was just going to take a few photos and leave. Then he tossed some tickets at me and Robbie and said, 'Merry Christmas'."

        "So guess where we're going tonight," Mom said. 

        I stared at them. "That's a violation of our principles! Do you know how they treat the animals in those places? Whips and cattle prods and-"

        Dad swallowed a mouthful of coffee and held up the front page of the _Daily Bugle_. "Mayday?"

        I stared blankly for a minute as the events of the previous night came rushing back, choking off my outrage about horses and tigers. "Oh! Yeah. I ran into her last night when I was web-"

        Andrea clattered down the stairs, wearing a pink top that was so bright I winced. I stopped in midsentence, glancing quickly between my parents. Dad immediately pretended to be engrossed with the newspaper and Mom stirred Equal into her coffee, her lips pressed tightly together in a thin line. I could tell she still hadn't forgiven her for the airport incident.

        She looked around, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "So, what's to eat?"

        "Toast," Mom said. 

        Andrea wrinkled her nose. "Toast?"

        Mom opened her mouth and I went into the den. I sat down on the couch  and stared at the wall. How could I tell my parents anything with Andrea constantly within earshot? How could I ask Dad for advice when I needed it most?

        I was nodding off again when Dad appeared in the den. He whispered, "I've got to go. Tell me some time when she's not around. Is it serious?" 

        "Nothing Spider-Girl can't handle," I said, trying to smile.

        Dad wasn't smiling. "If something comes up, you know where to find me. Don't get cocky, and always watch your back...I showed you that spinning web trick, didn't I? And the-"

        "No, Dad, really, don't worry." I stood up, blinking rapidly, still trying to wake up. "It's not as bad as it sounds, just...weird. I'll be okay."

        Dad gave me that look again, hesitated and said, "All right. See you tonight." He hugged me, then left. The door shut behind him. 

        I collapsed back on the couch. Ladyhawk. Great. I had been looking forward to a nice, long vacation, with maybe the occasional mugger or burglar to put away, but mostly long, sunny days of webswinging over a sparkling city. Now it was gone. My image of a beautiful blue day melted into a scene of a foggy night spent tracking a vigilante through the slums of Brooklyn and Hell's Kitchen. Alone. After all, I couldn't go dragging Harry into this. I couldn't really say why not, especially to his face. 

        I always worked better alone.

        "I've got to run, too." Mom appeared, zipping her bag. "Is everything all right?"

        I repeated monotonously what I had told Dad, and Mom again told me that she expected a full explanation when Andrea wasn't around. She said, "Remember, play rehearsal at ten."

        "At _ten? Oh..." I shot up off the couch and fell down again. I had completely forgotten it was so early!_

        Mom looked even grimmer. "Mayday...I need to apologize in advance."

        I didn't like the sound of that. "Huh?"

         "Andrea," she said. "You know we can't leave her alone in the house, and Benny's going to over to Jim's..."

        Which is how I ended up closing the door after Mom and staring eye-to-eye with my cousin in the front hall as she ate a piece of toast smeared with copious amounts of strawberry jam.

        "You have to come with me to school," I said.

        Andrea swallowed her toast. "What?"

        "Play practice."

        "_Play practice?" Andrea huffed. "Why can't I stay here? I don't want to be seen with you...wait! Is Harold going to be there?"  
        "__Harold? His name's Harry, and no, he won't be!"_

        "Oh, well, forget it, then." She headed for the den. 

        I crossed my arms, becoming downright fed up with this. "Look. You don't want to be here and I don't want you here either, okay? But there is no way you're staying in this house alone."

        "Oh yeah? Who says?" Andrea smirked, picking up the remote.

        I saw Benny suddenly peeking around the doorway, a cowboy hat jammed on his head and an old shirt of Dad's draped around him like a lab coat. I glanced sidelong at him and said, "Okay, fine. I'll go to rehearsal, and you can stay here with Benny."

        Right on cue, Benny bounded into the den, grabbed Andrea's arm and yelled into her face, looking as sane as a Hare Krishna. "No time to lose, Marty! Come on! We have to get..." He let go and struck a ridiculous pose, staring bug-eyed at an imaginary watch and pointing to the ceiling with his other hand. He said in a dramatic tone, "Baaaaaaack...to the futuuuuure!"

        With that, Ben Parker vaulted over the sofa and raced out of the room.

        Andrea stared after him, wide-eyed. "There is something seriously wrong with that child."

        "He's just imaginative," I said cheerfully. "So...stay or go?"

        Which is how I ended up stepping off the bus at Midtown High School with Andrea twenty minutes later. There were only a few cars in the parking lot, and the place looked nearly deserted. I wasn't really happy to be returning so soon, and tried to walk a few feet away from Andrea as she giggled her way off the bus, waving daintily to the hapless bespectacled college student in the front seat.

        "Isn't that guy cute with his little textbooks and all? I think he liked me!" 

        I shouldered my backpack as we headed towards the theatre area. "Andrea, he didn't even speak English."

        Andrea huffed again at this and was giving me a list of how she was absolutely sure that the student had understood her when I saw Harry leaning against the theatre door, checking his watch. The theatre was a big, boxy structure, made of concrete, like everything else in the city. Whoever had designed it certainly didn't have aesthetics in mind, because it was certainly one of the ugliest buildings in Manhattan.

        Andrea squealed, "_Harold! What are you doing here?" She hissed at me out of the corner of her mouth, "You told me he wouldn't be here!"_

        Harry saw her coming and moved first, dodging out of her way and coming up to me. "Mayday! You won't believe this, but...did she just call me _Harold? Anyway-"_

        Andrea came clomping back on her platforms, having missed her pounce. "Harold, it's so wonderful to see you again! I've been thinking about you ever since we met!"

        "Oh...that's...nice," Harry said, edging backwards. He was throwing little glances at me, trying to send a message. "So, about the-"

        "Are you in this play too? I think-"

        "Hey!" Someone with a deep voice yelled from behind her. A thin girl with dark hair was leaning out the door. "Cobweb! Is that you? You're late; get in here!" She disappeared back into the theatre.

        "Cobweb?" Harry and Andrea asked at the same time. I nodded. "That's me."I started for the doors, Harry next to me.

        "What's going on?" I asked.

        "Listen," he whispered. "It's happened again. I heard it on the radio. Two more incidents last night. One in Harlem, and one in Hoboken. Ladyhawk."

        "Hoboken?" I said, "She sure gets around. But what did she-"

        "Harold!" Andrea came hurrying after us, trying in vain to drag Harry into a conversation. I groaned inwardly. This was getting ridiculous. I couldn't even discuss Ladyhawk with my best friend without her interfering! 

        "She broke up some Mafia heist. They got the whole thing on camera." Harry swallowed. "It isn't pretty. She-"

        "_Cobweb!"_

        "Aah!" My spider-sense buzzed just as the same girl rushed out of the theatre, grabbed my arm and began hauling me towards the building. 

        "Welcome to theatre! Of course, no consideration for the techies, just moseying in here whenever you feel like it. Oh, yeah, while we have to just wait around eating pretzels while you actors waltz in here three hours late..." She kicked the doors open.

        "Hey!" I carefully pried her fingers from my wrist as Harry and Andrea followed. "First of all, I'm only five minutes late! And who are you?"

        She stomped into the lobby. "Felder, Emily, your stage manager. Known to all as Felder. Don't you dare call me otherwise. You're quite obviously not a thespian. Tried out, did you?"

        "Um...yes," I said, totally nonplused.

        "Good; thespians bug me." She stomped towards the big auditorium doors, plastered with strange, bright _Dream posters showing gauzy-winged fairies and Bottom with his donkey's head. Felder whirled suddenly and skewered Harry and Andrea with a scathing glance. "Those two schmucks can't come backstage. They'll have to wait in the house."_

        "Like, what's a schmuck?" said Andrea. "Oh, who cares, we'll be sitting together in the auditorium, Harold! I always did like _A Midnight Summer's_...whatever, and-"

        "And I'll, just...uh...I've actually gotta go. See you, Mayday." Harry took off in a sprint, shoved the doors open and dashed out into the sunlight. Andrea scurried after him. 

        "Harold, come back! _Harold? Where are you?"_

        "If you're _quite finished..." Felder seized my arm again and dragged me through the doors, down the isle, and onto the stage._

        It was pandemonium. People I knew, and many that I didn't were rushing around, yelling at each other. Scenery was all over the place along with odd bits of costume, a wing, a crown, and a sock. Felder almost tripped over a huge senior sticking yellow tape to the floor.

        "All right, Parker, go backstage, turn left, turn right, go see Wilkerson and get your costume together. Oh yeah, if you see Olivier, don't mention the word 'Hamlet'. Go on, hurry!"

        "If I see _who?" I asked, but Felder was already storming off, roaring, "Chinault, you schlemiel, I said green tape!_ Green!"__

        I stood there, feeling totally lost, just as someone else said, "Mayday! Is that you?"

        "Pele!" I turned around, finally seeing someone I knew. Pele Kaiele was on the track team, or at least she had been the last time I'd actually showed up for track. "Hi."

        "Hi!" Pele said cheerfully, her black ponytail bobbing. "Techie or thespian?"

        I blinked, and she said, "You're not a drama person, are you?"

        I threw up my hands. "No! I have no idea what's going on! And Felder...is she always like that?"

        "Emily? Yeah, I call her that to bug her sometimes," Pele said. "She's nicer when there's no play going on. Did she tell you to go see Marnie Wilkerson for your costume?"

        I nodded, and she said, "Good, me too. I'm Peaseblossom; who're you?"

        "Cobweb." I followed her backstage into the wings, which were draped with dusty maroon curtains. 

        "Marnie's a junior...well, no, she's a senior now. She's the costumer. She's pretty nice..."

        My spider-sense flared and I yelled, "_Look out!_" 

        Pele and I ducked just as a foam ball whizzed over our heads and smacked into the wall in front of us. Pele straightened and yelled, "Damn it, Tim! For the last time-"

        "Who yelled?" 

        I turned and saw a wiry boy with spiky black hair and thick tortoiseshell glasses scribbling onto a clipboard.

        "Me," I said. "What did you do that for?"

        "Besides the point. Your name, please?"

        I said, "Mayday Parker," just as Pele said, "Don't tell him!"

        "Hmmm...May Parker, now a junior, brown hair, brown eyes, born August 12, 1987, homeroom is Reynard, room 301. Lightning-fast reflexes, check." He marked a minuscule check on his clipboard. He suddenly screamed, "Oh my God, look! It's Hobgoblin!"

        I stared at him, not even flinching. "Are you okay?" What on earth was he doing?

        "Meet Tim Johansen," Pele muttered. "Our shrewd and knavish sprite named Robin Goodfellow."

        "No reaction to 'Villain Sighting' test," Tim murmured. "What's your opinion on wasps, Mayday Parker?"

        "I...don't like them," I said truthfully, wondering what kind of nuthouse my mom had gotten me into. These people were insane!

        "A_ha!" Tim crowed, scribbling furiously. "Now, how about-"_

        "Give it a rest, Tim! Mayday Parker is _not_ Spider-Girl!" Pele shouted. She said, "He's just crazy about anything Spider-Girl. You should see his locker at school; it's plastered with clippings. He's been cornering every girl in the company since last week."

        Crazy about Spider-Girl? Clippings? Cornerings?

        "And I have some photographs of my own," Tim said proudly. "Including one I got off eBay of Spider-Girl versus Hobgoblin in the famous 2002 Times Square incident."

        Photos? I couldn't believe this; I had a stalker!

        "Anyway, I am now absolutely convinced that Mayday Parker is in fact not Spider-Girl," Tim said sagely. 

        I stifled a laugh. "Um...just out of curiosity," I said, trying not to giggle. "What makes you say that?"

        Tim eyed me beadily. "You're not nearly tall enough," he said, retrieved his ball, and stalked off, presumably to plan his next attack.

        "Who...was..._that?" I asked._

        "I told you, Tim Johansen. He's a wacko, but not dangerous. Come on, let's go."

        We went to see Marnie, the costumer. In fact, we came into the dressing room in the middle of a shouting match.

        "This is imbecilic and ludicrous! Do you hear me, madam? Ludicrous and demeaning! Under no circumstances will I don that ridiculous grab! Never!" A tall blond boy with an upturned nose was bellowing away at Marnie Wilkerson, who was red in the face and screaming back.

        "Oh yes you will, Olivier! You're Oberon, and Oberon wears _this!_" She threw a sparkly costume at the blond boy, who tossed it disdainfully away. 

        "Yes, I, Lewis Olivier, _am Oberon, and as Oberon, the leading man of this production, I adamantly refuse to wear that garment!"_

        "_Olivier? Is that really his name?" I asked. No one answered. Olivier, if that was really his name, whirled and stomped to the door. He paused and turned, flinging his arm out and pointing dramatically at Marnie. "I will be speaking to the director about this, make no mistake! If you expect me to bow to your wishes, then __thou hast mistaken quite!"_

        He flung the door open, strode out, and slammed it behind him with a defeaning crash.       

        I couldn't believe this. By rights, I should be out as Spider-Girl looking for Ladyhawk, but instead I was trapped playing a fairy in a lunatic asylum!

        Marnie took a deep breath to regain her composure and said, "Athenians or fairies?"

        I was pretty surprised that my costume had already been made, and I couldn't complain at all when she pulled it off the rack.

        "Did you _make this?" I gasped as she handed it to me on a coat hanger. It was actually a white long-sleeved unitard, but wreathed in gauzy, glittering material that looked almost exactly like spun cobwebs. I lifted one arm and interlocking strings of sequins followed it, woven delicately into a spiderweb pattern that stretched between the sleeves and the sides of the unitard like hollow wings._

        Marnie shrugged. "At least six of us worked on them. Wait till you see Titania."

        Pele's Peaseblossom costume looked nothing like mine, even though we were both playing two of Titania's servant fairies. Hers was a green unitard, but swathed in thin sparkling imitation leaves and flowers. Where my wings were made like strands of webbing, hers were strung with thin leafy vines.

        I gaped at my costume in awe, thinking that if I was ever able to make something like this, that would be the end of red and blue spandex. It was a good thing I had left Spider-Girl at home; it would be a hard thing to hide in this place.

        Marnie tossed me a white eyemask. "We're doing the mask motif. Everyone's wearing one that goes with their costume."

        Pele didn't look nearly as astonished as I did. She folded her costume carefully and said, "Thanks, Marnie," just as Felder bellowed from somewhere in the house, "Act Three beginners, on stage _now!"_

        We didn't stop working until four-thirty in the afternoon, when I was ready to collapse. Ladyhawk had gone right out of my head. I had had no idea that putting on a play was so much _work_! Memorizing lines, learning where to walk, when to walk, where to go, how to go there, and learning how to get along with the biggest crew of oddballs I had ever met.

        That assessment was coming from a certified oddball herself.

        Other than Felder, the stage manager, there was Tim, Puck, the Spider-Girl stalker. There was Lewis Olivier, Oberon, who believed himself to be the most fantastic actor to ever walk the humble halls of Midtown. And there was Megan Falhoul, Hermia, who was the biggest gossip in the new junior class. Then there was Amy Lowman, Helena, the make-up fanatic, and Todd Wong, Theseus, who psychoanalyzed his fellow players as they rehearsed. There was JJ, Nick Bottom, the grandson of none other than J. Jonah Jameson himself, and actually the most laid-back member of the gang. The list went on: Regina Selheimer, Carder Chambers, Esperanza Morales, Nick Ekpa...

        Ladyhawk and patrolling seemed very far away when I was reading lines off a page with Felder screaming, "Project, Parker! _Project!" I was so exhausted that the idea of webswinging made me want to crawl into my bed and go right to sleep. But I only carefully folded my unworn Cobweb costume and put it in my backpack as rehearsal ended._

        I went out through the house, where I found Andrea waiting in a state of absolute fury.

        "That weirdo almost smacked me in the face with a ball! Did you see him? Where's the security in this place? And what is it with you people and spiders?"

        "Huh?" I asked.

        Wrong answer.

        "Weren't you _listening?" Andrea squawked. I headed down the isle and out of the theatre with her still raging._

        "And then he threw a fake wasp at me, only I didn't know it was fake, so I screamed, and then he just ran off going  'I found her! I found her!'"

        I rolled my eyes, too tired to laugh as we went to the bus stop.

        "What's with this whole, like, _spider thing this city has going?" Andrea asked, while smiling at a bewildered bike messenger on the other side of the street. "I saw it in a magazine. Spider-Girl or something."_

        "Oh, her," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Yeah, she...um...shows up once in awhile. I don't know much about her."

        "Well, now _I do," Andrea grumbled. "She's some freak that beats up other freaks, huh?"_

        _That_ got my attention. I rounded on her angrily. "Just because someone's different from you doesn't mean they're a freak."

        She smirked. "Everyone thinks it. Why shouldn't I? She's not human, so she's a freak. A lot of people don't like her...hey, that's not our bus."

        "We have to go to Spencer Field to meet Mom and Dad for the circus, remember?" I got on the bus, paid, and sat down. Andrea sat next to me.

        _Freak._

        I stared out the window as the bus pulled away from the curb, heading down the ever-crowded Sixth Avenue.

        Not human. But I _was human, wasn't I? I looked like a normal person, I acted like anyone else when I wasn't in costume. I ate, slept, went to school, argued with my brother, read books. It wasn't _my_ fault I was Spider-Girl; it hadn't been Dad's choice to become Spider-Man at all. It was an accident, just pure chance.___

_        It was chance that did this to me. It was sheer, random chance that turned me into a..._

        I shook my head, wishing that I had never given Andrea's words a second thought. They had brought back something that I didn't want to think about. It was just stupid. Of course I wasn't a freak; I was human. Not quite like everyone else, but still human.

        Mostly.

        Maybe it was my exhaustion that kept me feeling sorry for myself. This hadn't been the greatest day of my life, and I didn't relish the idea of going back there at all. I was just so tired...

        _"Aaaaaaaah!"___

_        The bus driver slammed on the brakes and my eardrums exploded in pain. I clapped my hands over my ears, grimacing, but I couldn't block out the horrible, ululating screech that was pounding through my head and clouding my vision. I dimly saw glass shattering, saw cars going out of control all around us. Andrea, and other people on the bus had their mouths open in screams I couldn't hear, eyes shut, faces twisted in agony. The window next to me cracked and disintegrated._

        Then I saw, as the noise faded, as car alarms and shouts and cries rang out all down Sixth Avenue, I saw the shadow. The shadow gliding over the pileup she had causes. I saw men and women running, leaving their cars in the street, pointing hysterically at the sky.

        Ladyhawk dropped from the air, landing in a crouch on top of a black stretch limousine. As I watched, barely conscious, she shifted her position, then slammed both hands into the roof of the limousine. Her wings extended, flapped, and the entire car was rising off the ground as Ladyhawk hauled it into the air.

        Sirens were wailing, people were screaming, and there was a series of crashes as six cars rear-ended each other beside the bus. Ladyhawk was gaining altitude, carrying the car straight up into the air, flapping her wings...turning...

        She flew east, carrying the entire car aloft over the streets of Manhattan, getting smaller and smaller...

        Now. I had to go after her now! I stumbled to my feet, nearly tripping over my cousin. "Andrea? Andrea!"

        She didn't move. Her eyes were closed, and her head lolled onto her shoulder. Her breathing was shallow.

        "_Andrea!" I gasped._

        "Hey! Mayday!"

        I whirled and saw Harry through what was left of the window. He was standing in the doorway of a brownstone, looking totally bewildered. We had stopped just outside the Osborn mansion. He ran forward and jumped, catching hold of the window and climbing up. "What happened? There was this noise..."

        "Ladyhawk! Harry, Andrea's hurt, and I've got to go after her!" I grabbed my backpack and vaulted over the sill past him, landing lightly on the pavement below. My ears were still ringing. "Take care of Andrea! Go get help, find some cops, paramedics, anyone!"

        "I'm going with you!" I saw him reaching in his pocket.

        "_Harry!" I screamed over the noise. "There's no time! Get help!" _

        I didn't wait for him to answer. I turned and ran east, dodging around taxis and pedestrians, searching desperately for somewhere to change. I spun into an alley between two hotels and started kicking off my sneakers before I realized.

        I wasn't wearing my costume.

        I almost leaped up the wall anyway. I couldn't let Ladyhawk get away! She had that car, and who knew who else was inside it. She might let it smash on the pavement, or throw it into the harbor...

        I grabbed the roots of my hair in frustration. No costume. No Spider-Girl.

        Wait!

        I slung my backpack off my shoulder and tore it open. My copy of _Jane Eyre_ fell out and I stuffed it back in. Sequins glimmered dully at me. I pulled the costume out. It had been made to be easy to move in; there was a lot of twirling and dancing for the fairies. 

        I was going to go webswinging after Ladyhawk..._in a fairy costume?_

        "Well," I said dully. "It comes with a mask."

        Burning with embarrassment, even though there was no one to see, I changed into the Cobweb ensemble, tying the eyemask in place behind my head. I didn't like the mask. It was too small, not at all like my usual one. The spiderweb wings hung in strands from the inside of my sleeves all the way to my waist.

        I knew I'd have time to worry about looking stupid later. I slung my backpack over my shoulder, cracked my knuckles, sprang up into the air and shot a line of web from my right wrist, hurtling towards the street and then up into the air again as I soared after the criminal in the distance.


	6. Chapter Five: Drama Queen

Chapter Five

        "Who is_ that?"_

        "What the...is that _Spider-Girl?"_

        "Hey, Spidey! What's with the new look?"

        I didn't have time to come up with a customary pithy reply. I dropped my webline in midswing and landed on a rusty fire escape. I ran lightly up the railing and to the roof of the apartment building, scanning the horizon frantically.

        There, there! I saw the speck that was Ladyhawk, nearly a mile away already, heading almost due east. I sprinted across the gravely roof and leaped, shooting a webline and soaring back up into the sky. I could see that her flying was labored, uneven from the weight of the limousine. If I swung fast enough, I just might catch her...

        I practically flew myself, swinging and bouncing from building to building  What I would have given for Harry's supersonic glider to hop onto now. Because, even during my wild ride through Manhattan, I could see where Ladyhawk was heading.

        She was aiming for the harbor.

        I slid down the tapering sides of a skyscraper and sprang again. The sunlight flashed in my eyes as I tore after her over the rooftops. I could see her clearly now, flapping east, and the dents that her claws made in the polished black roof of the car. I followed over the waterfront Spencer's Field, and the huge striped circus tent enveloping it. Crowds of circus-goers were already streaming in. The air was getting cooler, saltier...

        I cleared the last office building just as Ladyhawk, soaring out over the open water, spun in midair and hurled the entire limousine into New York Harbor.

        I catapulted forward and missed my jump as the car bobbed once, like a toy, and sank. My backpack caught on the highest circus flag and ripped open. I vaguely saw my battered copy of_ Jane Eyre tumbling down over the tent. Barely thinking, adrenaline rushing through my veins, I tossed my backpack away and webslung, let my webline carry me up and up until it reached the end of its swing, high above the waters. I dropped it, somersaulted, and plummeted downward, shutting my eyes, gritting my teeth, and trying not to think about drowning._

        My hands hit the water and I plunged under. It was cold, far colder than the summer air above. The sequins and wings of my Cobweb costume floated listlessly around me, tangling around my arms. I stroked clumsily deeper. Fear colder than the water around me snaked through my mind. I hated the water, terminally deep blackness that would squeeze the air from my lungs and drag me deeper and deeper...but it was fear for someone else, and for what would happen to them if I failed.

        A cloud of sand and grit hit me in the face, turning the water into a murky gray cloud. I kicked hard, swimming straight for the bottom, until my outstretched hands thudded against a blurry license plate. I slapped my hands against the trunk of the car, felt my fingers cling, and pulled myself down to the hood, embedded in the sand.

        My lungs were starting to burn, and that barely repressed panic gnawed and gnawed. _There's no air!_ It screamed,_ You're going to drown!_

        I grabbed the front bumper, sending more clouds of sand swirling into the water. The windshield was fogged and cracked, and the metal creaked. I braced my feet against the bottom and heaved with all of my strength.

        The limousine rocked backwards and I pushed off, slapping my palms against the hood and kicking. Was anyone alive inside? I couldn't check; if I so much as cracked a window the sea would come pouring in. What if I was too late? What if the fall had killed them? What if...

        I had been under almost a minute, and my whole body ached. My lungs were on fire and blood pounded at my temples. The flickering daylight was so high, so impossibly far...

        I kicked frantically, towing the limousine below me, dying for just one breath, just one wisp of air...

        My head broke the surface and I sucked in a huge, wheezing breath. Gasping, I paddled wildly for the concrete walkway outside a factory. The car surfaced behind me. Workers and passerby were pointing, gaping. I was dripping and bedraggled, and my wet hair was wild and in my face. My eyemask was mercifully still in place.  I struggled up onto the loading dock and hauled the car after me. Water was streaming from its windows and doors. I grabbed one handle; it was locked. I pulled the door off.

        A man in a driver's uniform tumbled out along with gallons of seawater. He sprawled onto the concrete, his eyes huge, gasping. I pulled him to his feet. He was staring around him, gibbering, "We were flying...and then...and then we were just...where's my boss?"

        I hopped over the car to the other side and wrenched the back door off its hinges. A graying man in a business suit sat in the drenched interior, unmoving, still in his seatbelt. I started to pull him out, when-

        _DANGER!_

        I saw the shadow first and backflipped out of the way just as Ladyhawk slammed to the ground in a crouch, barely five feet away. Her wings were spread, spanning the entire length of the limousine and farther, blocking my view.

        "What do you think you're..._Spider-Girl?"_

        I heard sirens in the distance. Flashbulbs from a group of awestruck tourists went off to my left, until some more experienced New Yorkers hustled them off. I tensed, balling my hands into fists, ready. The driver scrambled away on all fours.

        Ladyhawk straightened and snorted. "I don't think much of your fashion sense."

        I stared at her, not quite believing that she could be commenting on my costume when she had just attempted murder. Choking, I said, "Get out of my way, Ladyhawk."

        She blinked behind her mask, then chuckled. "The papers have given me a name already? 'Ladyhawk'? Not bad, I like the sound of it."

        My voice trembling with anger, I said, "I'm getting that man out of there. Get out of my way."

        Ladyhawk's smirk disappeared abruptly, replaced by a snarl. "I told you not to meddle with me. I gave you a fair warning, Spider-Girl. You didn't listen. You have continued to interrupt my work. Therefore you must be removed."

        My spider-sense buzzed as she inhaled deeply, about to let out her paralyzing screech. I whipped my arm up and fired. The webbing hit her full in the face, completely plastering her mouth. She reeled back with a muffled squawk, then sprang forward, claws outstretched.

        I dodged right as they whistled through the air where I had been a split second earlier, tangling the spiderweb wing of my costume. The sequins tore away and I whirled into the air in the best spinning kick I could muster.

        Ladyhawk twisted away and bounded into the air. Her gigantic wings flapped, sending dust and litter gusting away. I leaped after her, determined to drag her down, to make sure she wouldn't escape...

        Ladyhawk spun in the air and dove at me like a missile. I caught the edge of a roof and flipped backwards as she shot past below me, angling away for another deadly charge. I rushed after her, vaulting around a compressor. I had to catch up to her before she came at me again...

        I shot web from both wrists in a wild swing, letting go and crashing into her in midair. She rammed her elbow into the side of my head; I threw a punch in return. We were falling, hurtling downwards into something huge and striped...

        _Rrrrrrip_!__

        The striped canvas tore and suddenly I was in a dim world of brightly colored spotlights and hundreds of people. A heavily accented voice was saying, "...without the safety of a net!"

        A wooden bar swung out of nowhere. I grabbed it and jerked to a stop. Ladyhawk tumbled away just as the crowd below burst into shouting. I dangled there dizzily, my head spinning, as the bar swung gently from two thin cables.

        I was holding onto a trapeze!

        I hopped up, bracing my feet on the swaying bar and staring around, totally bewildered. I saw, on a platform behind me, a man in a sparkling red suit and face paint staring at me with an expression of utter befuddlement. I looked down. An assortment of garishly dressed clowns and a top-hatted MC with a microphone were gazing upwards with their mouths open, but not at me.

        We had fallen into the circus.

        _Of all places_, I thought. Ladyhawk was on the opposite trapeze, wings spread for balance, tearing the webbing from her face. The crowd, men and women with popcorn and little kids with balloons, was silent. Ladyhawk ripped the last strand of webbing away and glared balefully at me. I glared angrily back, gripping the cables of the trapeze, my hands slick with sweat.

        As if one some hidden signal, we both leaped.

        Ladyhawk was a whirl of talons as I tumbled through the air. She flapped past as I swung furiously, clipping her wing. I snatched at the opposite trapeze and flipped onto it. Ladyhawk clattered to the other.

        The crowd, which had gone deathly still, burst into applause and whistles. I gaped at them, astonished. I couldn't believe this.

        They thought we were part of the show!

        The MC didn't try to dissolve the illusion, either. Not missing a beat, and plastering a huge smile on his face, he gestured grandly to us. "Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to present to you our newest performance, the battle of the eagle and the owl!"

        Owl? _Owl?_

        Ladyhawk hissed, crouched on her perch. "I'll get you yet, you hypocritical little fool. Don't bother running."

        "Who said anything about running?" I leaned back and let the trapeze hurl me into the air again. The big top blurred around me like a kaleidoscope. I heard shouts from the people below.

        "Wow! How does she do that?"

        "Mommy, Mommy! It's an angel!"

        "No she's not, dear, she's an acrobat. Those wings look almost real, don't they?"

        _You have no idea, lady,_ I thought. Ladyhawk copied my move, swinging towards me. I wrenched myself around in the air, my muscles screaming in protest, enough to land a punch that hit her directly in the head.

        Ladyhawk flapped haphazardly, trying to regain her momentum as I caught the trapeze again. We were right back where we started.

        This was impossible!

        Ladyhawk lunged again, and I sprang. We were whirling through the air, punching and kicking and clawing, bounding and swinging from trapeze to trapeze. The crowd was going wild, yelling with delight and astonishment. That crazy MC was still booming into his microphone, and clowns and tumblers still capered beneath.

        Drama people.

        My spider-sense blazed, and out of nowhere Ladyhawk's fist smashed into my face, knocking me out of my swing. I tried to shoot web and froze. I couldn't let the people know I was Spider-Girl!

        Blood streaming from my nose, I only wrapped my arms around myself, shut my eyes, and fell. I would hit the net, fifty feet below, and...

        Hadn't the MC said this show was done_ without a net?_

        The crowd gasped.

        My back hit the floor of the big top so hard I thought my spine would crack. The air rushed from my lungs and flashes of light exploded in my head. I lay there for one moment, stunned. I saw Ladyhawk flap to a trapeze and peer down at me. The people watching had gone silent again. Not a cough, not a rustle echoed through the enormous tent.

        Regaining my balance, and wondering dizzily whether I had little cartoonish birds fluttering around my head, I hopped to my feet.

        Silence.

        Then, like a tidal wave, roars and applause and screams rang through the big top as people jumped up from their seats, hooting and clapping.

        I bowed.

        "Our owl is certainly a brilliant and noble fighter!" The maniac MC yammered on. "But what is this? The eagle is not taking her defeat gracefully!"

        "Whoa!" I bounced forward in a handspring as Ladyhawk fluttered down where I had stood, her back to the audience, flexing her talons, raptor eyes blazing through her mask.

        "Believe it or not, I'm not acting, Spider-Girl," she growled. "You'll die for real!"

        "Then stop talking and fight, drama queen!" I yelled.

        Ladyhawk charged at me with a screech. I leaped into the air and onto one of the support pillars, a rectangular framework of mesh and poles topped by glaring spotlights. Ladyhawk's wings snapped out, trying to brake, but she slammed right into the pillar. It teetered, rocked...

        I dodged away to the other side just as it fell with a tremendous crash, ripping a gaping hole in the side of the tent. Late afternoon sunlight poured in, and I caught a glimpse of the blue water of the harbor.

        The pillar suddenly rocked back again like a seesaw. I threw out my arms, trying to balance. Ladyhawk was on the other end, flapping. I looked down. It was balancing on something...something that looked like a pyramid of brightly painted rockets...

        With a chill, I remembered the add in the newspaper I had seen, days before. Some German circus, acrobats, clowns, animals...

        And an indoor fireworks display.

        And as if to drive the point home, one of the sparking light cables flailed around and landed directly in the tangled nest of fuses.

        I looked at Ladyhawk. She looked at me. Comically, at the same time we stared down at the fireworks, then back at each other.

        I don't know exactly who panicked first, but we sprang into the air just as the pyramid and pillar exploded, shooting terrific sparks and rockets and fireworks into the air like every Fourth of July celebration combined. I yelped as a rocket blew past me and exploded with a tremendous bang and spiral of sparks just over my head. 

        The audience was going crazy as fireworks burst and scintillated around us with deafening thunder. I caught a trapeze and flipped onto it, just in time to see Ladyhawk vanish through the rip in the tent in a flutter of feathers. Without hesitating, certain that the audience was too distracted by the fireworks, I took a deep breath and followed.

        Orange sunlight flashed in my eyes. Ladyhawk was leaning against a lamp post on the harbor, panting. I landed in a crouch and she turned.

        "You think...that you can..."

        _Enough._

        I shuddered, shaken. Where had that come from? The word had just appeared in my head, in a voice that reverberated in my mind.

        Ladyhawk stopped in midsentence. Her head jerked around, birdlike, searching. Had she heard it too?

        She turned back to me. "I told you there would be consequences for-"

        _Enough!_

        Then my spider-sense erupted in a horrified wail. I lurched backward. I could feel my face twisting, my eyes widening, as a wave of inexplicable terror swept over me. Shapes and hideous forms seemed to seep out of the air, leering...everything horrifying, monstrous, terrifying was there, around me, waiting to get me...and voices...and high, goblin laughter...

        _You think you can get rid of me that easily?_

        _Run, Benny! Run! Run!_

        _John Doe! Are you watching?_

        Monsters, fear, everywhere, closing in, horrors upon horrors...

        _Then watch your daughter die, Spider-Man!_

        I screamed, clutching my head, trapped in a cage of a thousand nightmares...I saw Ladyhawk staggering away, eyes huge with some unspeakable horror...

        I stumbled, ran...ran and ran, my face a mess of tears and blood, bounding up a wall, climbing, desperate to get away from the monsters and demons...

        And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped.

        I tripped and fell face forward onto a rooftop bathed in the light of the settting sun. It was gone. The terror. Gone, leaving me drained and shaken to the core, gasping, soaked in saltwater and sweat.

        I don't know how long I lay there, unmoving, as the sunlight slid away and disappeared into the gray dusk. Lights came on in skyscrapers. A helicopter droned over head.

        Finally, when the sky was deepening to blue, I got to my feet, battered, bruised, and haunted. The memories had gone to the place I had buried them, fading away with the fear. I had to get home, had to find Dad and Mom and Benny...and Andrea was hurt...

        Slowly, laboriously, I stepped off the roof and swung.

        I lay in bed that night, unable to sleep. The last few hours had gone by in a whirl of voices and colors. I had gone home to an empty house and changed, stuffing my tattered Cobweb costume under my bed. I didn't want to even try to make up excuses for Felder and Marnie. I had taken the bus to Manhattan General and had been greeted by the crowd of Mom, Dad, Benny, Harry, Harry's aunt Beth, and Andrea, fully awake and sporting a bandaged forehead.

        What had been driving my parents crazy was that Andrea was constantly around. I couldn't explain to them why I looked like a car accident, or why my hair was singed and my face bruised. Dad kept running his fingers through his hair on the way home, and Mom's face froze over in frustration. 

        I didn't want to watch the news; I had gone straight to bed. My mind kept jumping to the simplest worries: my destroyed fairy costume, and the fact that I had lost my backpack and all my books, including my only copy of _Jane Eyre._

        Now it was nearly midnight, and I lay staring at the friendly old glow-in-the-dark stars and planets on the ceiling, when I heard Andrea shift in her bead, and scream.

        "What? What?" I sat up, clicking on the light. Andrea was pointing at the window.

        "There's something out there!"

        My spider-sense was normal. "Andrea, go back to sleep."

        "Uncle Pete! Aunt Mary!" Andrea yelled, her face white. "May, there's something out there!"

        From down the hall I heard a "What the...", a crash that sounded like a chair, and a muffled curse. Then Dad was standing in the doorway in his pajamas, blinking owlishly. Mom stumbled after him, and a moment later Benny peeped in.

        "Excellent," he said. "Can I call the police?"

        "_No, Ben. Andrea...what...what..." Mom said._

        "I'm telling you, there's something out there!" Andrea hollered. "I saw it! It had big yellow eyes! Call the police, call the fire department, call the..."

        My first thought was Harry's mask, but then I realized that it was impossible. I would have heard that glider. Then Ladyhawk, but my spider-sense wasn't tingling.

        Dad yawned. "Stay here, I'll go look." He headed downstairs, followed by Mom and Benny. I heard the back door open. I unlatched the window and slid it open.

        "Are you crazy? Don't open that!" Andrea squawked, clutching her blankets.

        The backyard was dark and empty, disturbed only by the normal noises of the city. But I opened the window and froze.

                Sitting on the sill was my tattered copy of _Jane Eyre_.


	7. Chapter Six: Nachtkriecher

Chapter Six

It seemed like the next time I opened my eyes it was Tuesday. Early morning sunlight streamed through the blinds and patterned the carpet. I sat up in bed and yawned, glancing at my cousin. Andrea was asleep with a fashion magazine over her face.

I yawned again, blinking. Good, no play rehearsal today. I could...

I threw my covers off and hurried to my desk, snatching up the book that lay on top of a pile of comic strip clippings. It was a paperback, so old and used that its covers curled back and its pages spread out like a fan. I opened the cover. It read _Jane Eyre_, by Charlotte Brontë. Underneath, written in neat cursive, was "Happy Birthday, Mayday! Love, Mom. 8-12-2000".

It was mine, definitely mine. But I had seen it fall! When my backpack tore open, it had gone tumbling down hundreds of feet into Spencer's Field. And then, hours later, it suddenly materialized at home. On _my_ windowsill?

Someone had followed me.

I felt a chill. Someone had followed me, found my house, and returned my book.

Someone knew who I was.

I rushed out of my room and down the hall in my big T-shirt and loose shorts, leaping onto the banister and sliding down to the den. The house was quiet; it wasn't even seven o' clock. I turned on the TV, expecting to see news. It was a commercial. Feeling sweat break out on my forehead, I dashed into the front hall and pulled the door open, snatching the newspaper out of the air and ignoring a very startled paperboy.

I ran back in and slammed the door, spreading the paper out on the floor. If someone had found out, if someone had told...it would be on the front page. Jameson would have a field day. Huge, horrible black headlines were appearing in my mind, things like _Spider-Girl's Identity Revealed! Daily Bugle Exclusive! _and_ Midtown Junior Discovered to be Spider-Girl!_

Nothing on the front page but something about politics and gerrymandering. I tore through all of the sections. My heart stopped when I saw the word _circus_, but it was only about the history of the circus from some town in Bavaria. Metropolitan, nothing. Lifestyle, nothing. I even went through Business and Classifieds. Nothing.

I sat back on my knees and let out a long sigh. Nothing in the_ Daily Bugle_ about me, except for Jameson's customary rant in the editorials.

But what about...

I ran back into the den. The local news was on, talking about some airline going bankrupt. I flipped from channel to channel. Politics, weather, sports, war news, a volcano in Japan. That was it.

I collapsed on the couch as Wolf Blitzer went into a spiel about something important. Nothing about Spider-Girl. My secret wasn't out, at least not yet.

Now what? Someone knew who I was, knew where I lived, knew my family. Someone who had followed me home...just to return a_ book?_

The news jumped subjects again. "And in Boston yesterday, the renowned medicinal botanist Dr. Leonard Shire received the prestigious Jenner Award for his work in the field of tropical pharmacology. Originally from Britain, Dr. Shire spent much of the past few years in South America, Africa, and Indonesia studying the various plants and fungi..."

The camera showed a podium and a middle-aged, graying man with a large smile receiving an award. I watched dully, only half listening.

"...was also attended by his colleagues and friends, Dr. Mengyan Wang of Shanghai University Medical Center, Dr. Paulo Villas Boas of Brasilia Institute of Health, and Dr. Robert Hiller of New York City's Manhattan General Hospital."

Doc? I sat up. Yes, it was him on the television, smiling and clapping as Shire received his certificate. I hadn't seen him in awhile, since I had gone to rescue him from an oil rig in the middle of the ocean. At least now he had a better job than filing paperwork in the bowels of Quest Aerospace.

I moped around the house for almost an hour. Benny came tumbling down the stairs in his pajamas and flipped on a cartoon. I went into the kitchen just as he started yelling advice to the characters on the screen, hoping to find Mom or Dad.

Instead, I found Andrea.

"_This_," she said, "is the weirdest city I have ever been to."

"Oh, really," I muttered, pouring some cereal into a bowl.

"There're all sorts of weird _freaks_," she continued, putting deliberate emphasis on the word, "in New York. First Spider-Girl, and that Ladyhawk person, and now the thing that showed up last night-"

"_Thing?_" I asked. I whirled around. "Andrea! You said you saw something!"

Andrea shrugged languidly, pouring heaping spoonfuls of sugar into a mug of coffee. "I might have."

"Did you?"

"Maybe," she said. Great. Now that she knew something that I didn't, it would take hours to get her to tell me! I dumped my uneaten cereal down the garbage disposal.

"You know," I said, struck by a sudden idea. "The paper Dad works for, the _Daily Bugle_? Jameson, the owner, really likes strange stories. That's why he prints so much about Spider-Girl and Hobgoblin and those others."

Andrea's head came up. "Could I get in the paper?"

"Maybe...if you told Dad, he could tell Jameson about what you saw..." I said, feeling very devious all of a sudden, and a little guilty. "I mean, never mind. It was dark, and you probably didn't see it all that clearly, and-"

"I_ did _see it!" Andrea snapped. "Well, sort of. I saw something out there. It had bright yellow eyes!"

"That's all you saw?" I asked, disappointed.

Andrea huffed. "Well, I screamed, and then they disappeared really quickly. It was just gone. Look, May...or Mayhem, or whatever they call you..."

"It's May_day_!"

"Will Uncle Pete tell the papers? Will they send some reporters?"

"I guess you'd better ask him," I sighed. She ran out into the den to accost Dad as he came down the stairs.

Bright yellow eyes?

Dad managed to evade Andrea long enough to pop into the kitchen. "Mayday, I've got to drive to Manhattan to drop off some stuff at the office. Want to come?"

I frowned. "I thought those photos were due on Wed-"

Dad gave me a very pointed look.

"Oh, sure!" I said.

An hour later I ran back down the stairs, tying my wet hair back. Dad was waiting by the door. We said goodbye to Mom and Benny; Andrea was searching through my planner upstairs looking for Harry's phone number.

We got in the car. Dad drove around the block and stopped in an empty parking lot outside an Italian bakery. He turned off the ignition and said, "Tell."

So I did. I told him about how Harry and I had gone out to test his new glider, and to investigate the Shamrock Hotel. I told him about Ladyhawk, what she had said in the fog. I told him about hearing her screech yesterday and chasing after her in the fairy costume. I told him about the limousine, the fight, and about crashing into the circus. Dad stared at me as I talked, looking more and more worried. I got to the part when Ladyhawk tried to attack again outside the tent, and the fear, when I stopped.

I was saying, "And then all of a sudden there was-"

A sharp pain stabbed into my chest. I stopped.

"There was what?" Dad asked.

I tried again. "There was this-"

Another sharp pain lanced into my chest like a red-hot needle. My mouth closed and my throat clenched. A wave of nausea swept over me. I forced my frozen mouth open, but no sound came out.

"Mayday? Are you all right?"

I found myself nodding like a robot, and suddenly I was jumping to Andrea screaming and my finding _Jane Eyre_ outside my window.

What was going on? Every time I tried to tell Dad about the horrible fear, I couldn't breathe. My head spun and my mouth went dry, and burning spikes lodged between my ribs. It was almost as if something was stopping me, trying to prevent me from telling Dad...

"Mayday," Dad said. I was sure he was going to spot some hole in the story, to ask for an explanation, but he said, "I'll have to ask Andrea about this again. You're _sure _you lost that book while you were webswinging?"

I nodded. "Positive."

Dad stared out the windshield. "I'll be perfectly honest. This whole situation is...I'll say it. I'm worried. I don't like what I've heard about Ladyhawk; she seems as big a menace as anyone else, even if she's weeding out criminals. That was a mob boss in that limousine. He's in jail now, by the way. And..."

"What, Dad?"

"I think we can establish that someone followed you last night," Dad said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "This is serious. We don't know who...or what...that was. You're not going patrolling-"

"_What?_" I interrupted. "Daddy, you can't be serious! I have to-"

"Let me finish," Dad said calmly. "You're not going patrolling alone. I'm coming with you."

The idea was a big hit with Mom, of course. I guess she thought there would be less chance of me getting hurt if Dad went with me. That evening he spent a lot of time in the attic, going through old spare costumes. I found mine under my mattress, where I had hidden it from Andrea.

My sweet-tempered cousin was raging about Harry Osborn, particularly about how he had apparently pretended that his house was on fire as an excuse to hang up on her. I had to swallow half a bottle of water to keep from laughing.

That evening, while Benny faithfully distracted Andrea with the pet tarantula his best friend Jim had let him borrow, Dad and I, or Spider-Man and Spider-Girl webswung towards Manhattan, followed by the sound of Andrea Watson shrieking about her arachnophobia.

The night was cloudy and humid. We swung over the lights of the Queensboro bridge and onto the island. We stopped on the roof of a waterfront office building.

"Okay," Dad said. He was in his Spider-Man costume, mask and all. I couldn't tell where he was looking, or if he was even looking at me at all. It was very strange to talk to him with his mask on. Maybe that was why people looked uneasy around me when I was Spider-Girl.

"I think we should split up," I said. The words just popped out of my mouth. I blinked. Where did that come from? I had been thinking the exact opposite!

"Why?" Dad asked.

My mouth opened and my voice said, "Well, we would cover more ground that way, and faster."

Dad shook his head. "Mayday, the idea was for us to watch each other's backs. If Ladyhawk-"

Panic was rising inside me as my voice spoke again. "But we could round up more criminals this way. When I'm alone, or when you used to go alone, I'm sure we missed a lot of muggers. Now we could get twice as many if we split up. And Ladyhawk might not show up at all."

_No, no, we have to stay together! Why can't I say it? What's wrong with me?_

Dad stared at me, or so I assumed. My spider-sense was tingling; was his?

"You've got a point," he said. "_But_...we're meeting. Every hour...no, every thirty minutes. No arguments."

"Dad..." My voice complained, with a hint of a whine.

Dad ignored it. He pointed out places, the Chrysler Building, the South Street Seaport, a Hyatt hotel in Midtown. I was barely listening, sweating, trying to say what I meant to say, or at least shut my mouth. My voice agreed with Dad, repeated the meeting points back to him, and instantly I was swinging off the building down the street.

I lost my grip on the line and landed on a tin roof. I whirled around. "Dad! Wait! Something's..."

Dad was nowhere to be seen.

I stood there, trembling. What was happening to me? That wasn't me. I hadn't meant to say those things, to webswing...

I stared at my hands. Was I going crazy?

The buzz of my spider-sense dulled. The warm wind gusted. Shaking my head, trying to throw off my anxiety, I jumped and webswung again, heading down the avenue. Something was nagging me, a lingering unease...

I spun around several times. I could have sworn someone was following me...I landed on a windowsill. "Dad? Is that you?"

There was no answer over the sound of the traffic below. Dad wasn't there.

I met Dad thirty minutes later at the Chrysler Building, after dropping off two purse-snatchers at the police station. He had caught a few gang members holding up a Duane Reed's. We split again. I tried to tell him about what had happened, but an intense wave of nausea hit me and I was webswinging again.

I nearly crashed into a brick wall. I crawled up to the edge of the roof and crouched there, shivering. I wasn't imagining this. There was something wrong with me, something serious. I couldn't...

My spider-sense buzzed. I froze. It wasn't the siren screaming _DANGER!_, it was something else. A persistent tingle, warning me of something...

It felt like I was being watched.

I whirled around, scanning the rooftop. There was nothing there. But my spider-sense was warning me, telling me something...

I jumped and webswung again, into a maze of run-down apartment buildings. Dark windows gaped like empty eye sockets in greasy brick walls. On the fringes of Manhattan were the places that no sane citizen would frequent at night. I landed again on a fire escape, looking around. A stray cat slunk around a corner. Trash littered the streets, stirring in the polluted wind. Cars honked and tires squealed in the distance.

I wasn't imagining it. Someone was following me.

My spider-sense tingled again, but I didn't move. I strained my ears, listening. Something was there, watching me, I was sure of it...

I heard something scuffle on the deserted rooftop. Like a footstep.

Tensing my legs, I bounded into the air and twisted, making a wild grab behind me. I grabbed cloth, felt something tear.

_"Lass mich!"_

"What the-"

There was nothing there! I whirled around, staring, confused. The rooftop was empty, completely empty. The dull light of a flickering street lamp made eerie shadows creep across the walls of buildings. I opened my fist. In it was a scrap of cloth, like the torn end of a sleeve. How...?

There was a crash from below, in the dim alley. I ran to the edge of the roof. A trash can had been knocked over; it was rolling on its side. Something flitted around the corner and was gone.

"Hey, get back here!" I dropped from the roof and swung after the shadow, landing lightly on the ground. I dashed to the end of the alley, peering around. There! Someone was sprinting down the deserted sidewalk, under broken street lamps, almost a block away. Getting an idea, I scrambled up a wall and webswung from the top of an apartment in a wide swing. I could barely make out the figure...it was so dark...

The webline hurled me up into the sky, ahead of the running shadow. I dropped it, twirled, and fell feet first, squinting. There...it was coming straight for me...

I landed crouched. The person skidded to a stop, almost crashing into me, and-

_Bamf!_

The figure vanished.

"What the..." I gasped. It was gone! I whipped my head around. No one! No one anywhere!

_Bamf!_

There was that sound again, an instant later. I whipped my head around and saw someone running. Someone who was now on the _other _side of the street. How could it possibly...?

I leaped over a parked car and chased after it, sprinting for all I was worth. Trash cans and mailboxes were tumbling in front of me; it was knocking them down as it ran, trying to slow me down. I jumped and dodged out of their way, starting to get angry. This person...or thing...had been following me, and I was going to find out why!

"Who are you?" I yelled as I ran. The figure didn't show any sign that it had heard me. Another metal trash can crashed at my feet. I kicked it away. I was closing the distance...twenty feet...fifteen...

With an agile pivot the figure spun and took off down a narrow alley, crashing through a pile of cardboard boxes. I bounced off the wall and started after it again. "_Why were you following me?_"

The figure halted. I stopped, staring. Was it dangerous? How could I tell? What should I do?

The figure turned, legs bent in a crouch. A security light was welded halfway up the dead-end of the alley, casting a ghostly spotlight five feet across on the filthy pavement. The shadow wasn't in the light, but in front of it. I saw a silhouette of someone a little taller than Harry, wearing what looked like a long trench coat. I saw spiky hair and gangly limbs...but no face.

Straightening, the figure spread its arms and bellowed, _"Geh weg! Ich bin ein Teufel!"_

I stared at the person in disbelief. What _was_ this? Was that German? This patrol was getting crazier and crazier. I held up my hands slowly.

"Look," I said. "I don't know who...or what...you are. I just want to know why you were following-"

"_Geh weg!_"

"I don't know what you're saying!" I yelled. "Just listen-"

The person shouted again in German, the words echoing again and again through the alley. The people in the apartments must have heard it, but they had too much common sense to come out and see what the noise was.

I ground my teeth in frustration. I couldn't understand him, and he didn't seem to be making any attempt to understand me at all. I opened my mouth to shout back when my words lodged in my throat.

Because, as the figure stood there, a black shadow in front of the spotlight, I saw a long, arrowheaded _tail _flick out from under the coat.

The figure crouched again, about to run. I swung both hands up and fired two lines of web. The figure was hurled backwards against the dead-end brick wall, past the light, into the shadows again.. I shot more web, pinning him. Eyes wide, I hesitated, and walked forward.

The figure was struggling madly, twisting futilely against the webbing. "_Tut mir leid! Tut mir leid!_ I...sorry! I sorry!"

"Calm down!" I yelled. "Listen to me! I just want to know..."

_"Tut mir leid!"_

_"Stop it!_" I shouted at the top of my lungs. He stopped shouting and stared at me, still straining at the webbing.

"Listen to me," I said slowly. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"_Ich verstehe nicht, was du sagst._"

That stopped me. I didn't understand what he said, but at least it wasn't a scream. Could he even understand me?

"Do you...do you speak English?" I asked slowly. "English?"

"_Englisch?_" He asked. His voice wasn't that deep, he didn't seem that old. "_Nein, nein_."

"I guess not," I sighed. Great. I was being followed by...by a what? By someone with a tail that didn't speak English? I couldn't help at all; my German was limited to the words I had picked up from _The Sound of Music_.

"Okay," I said, very carefully, hoping that he wouldn't panic again. "I'm going to let you down. I'm not going to hurt you."

I stepped forward very slowly and reached forward, pulling the strands of webbing from the wall. The figure tumbled down ungracefully, gasping. He scrambled away, farther into the shadows and stared at me. _"D-D-Danke._"

I held up my hands again. "See? You're fine."

More German, so quickly I shook my head for him to stop. "Okay, listen. I'm May...Spider-Girl. Who are you?"

The figure cocked his head but didn't respond. With a little shiver I saw the tail again, whipping back and forth behind him, catlike.

I pointed to myself. "Spider-Girl."

"Sp-Spiii-dah-guhl," he said. "_Du, ja?_"

I nodded. "Yes, that's me. Now who are you?"

He stood up so suddenly that I jumped. He was taller than I thought. _"Ich heisse...heisse...Nachtkriecher."_

I didn't understand any of that. I shook my head, a little overwhelmed by the strangeness of the whole thing. "What?"

I saw him point to himself. He said, "_Ich heisse Nachtkriecher. Nachtkriecher."_

"Is that your name? Nacht...nacht..." I stumbled over the strange word.

"_Nachtkriecher_," he said.

"Nacht...can I just call you Nacht?" I said. "And...can you come out where I can see you?"

I don't know whether he understood my words, but I think he caught my meaning. He began shaking his head furiously. "_Du_...y-you...b-be...s-s-scare," he stammered.

So he _did_ know some English. "It takes a lot to scare me. Please come out."

He hesitated for a long moment, fidgeting. Then he slowly stepped into the light.

I had been expecting something strange, but it took all I had to keep from gasping. My eyes widened. I saw bare feet, covered in blue fur, split into two large toes. I saw ragged jeans, a waving blue tail, and three-fingered blue hands. I saw narrow shoulders and a face that didn't look much older than me, and spiky black hair.

I had never seen someone remotely like this before. Ladyhawk was strange, but at least she looked relatively human. Nacht was covered in short blue fur, with a tail and three-fingered hands...

He blinked, and I saw two bright, almost glowing yellow eyes.

Yellow eyes.

"You were at my house last night!" I said. "My cousin saw you. You brought my book back."

He looked at me blankly. He didn't understand much English at all. I mimed opening a book. His eyes brightened, and he let out a stream of incomprehensible German, followed by, "_Ja, das Buch._"

"You followed me..._you_!" I said sharply. "Was that you too? Did you stop me and Ladyhawk from fighting? Are you the one who's making me say things I don't want to?"

Nacht narrowed his eyes, looking confused. Wait...if someone was making me say those things, coming up with words I never meant to say, then they must be able to speak English. How could someone like Nacht do that?

Then who had?

That still didn't answer why he had been following me tonight, but I didn't think he would understand if I asked. He seemed so timid, standing with his shoulders hunched, as if he were nervous to be so clearly seen.

"All right," I said. "Truce. I just wanted to know-"

"Mayday? Is that you down there?"

Dad!

_Bamf! _

Nacht simply vanished from where he stood, leaving only a few wisps of dark smoke that faded away, smelling slightly of sulfur. Dad swung down into a somersault landing next to me. He looked at the spot where Nacht had stood, then at me. "Am I seeing things, or was someone else just here?"

I nodded. "Things just got a lot weirder, Dad."


	8. Chapter Seven: I Not Freak

A/N: I wrote this in a dentist's waiting room. Exam is tomorrow. Thanks for wishing me luck, I really appreciate it.

Chapter Seven

I was hoping for some kind of event of enormous significance to occur that would somehow explain everything. Hoping for over a week, because from that Tuesday to the next, absolutely nothing happened. No sightings of Ladyhawk, no reports of a vanishing furry German boy with a tail, nothing at all. Harry had even gone out on his glider to look around, but hadn't seen anything unusual. He had accidentally terrifying a group of Swedish sightseers and nearly gotten himself shot by police who didn't know that he wasn't about to toss a grenade.

Nothing out of the ordinary at all, except for one thing.

I never tried to tell anyone about the fear again. It was as if the need to tell had been sapped from me. No one knew, not Dad, not Mom, not Harry. My parents and I had agreed a long time ago not to tell Benny everything that went on.

Dad hadn't been able to shed much light on the whole Nachtgleiskette situation, either. I had explained what had happened, and asked if he might know who, or what, Nacht was. Dad had responded that he had no idea, but it had only strengthened his opinion that I needed to be more careful.

Dad was patrolling again as Spider-Man , too, even though there had been nothing out of the ordinary happening. Patrolling without me. Mom had said, a few days later, "Peter, don't do anything too crazy, okay? Remember, you're not as young as you used to be."

Dad had been about to leave for the _Daily Bugle_, and had been standing at the top of the stairs fiddling with a camera. He hadn't responded to Mom, only leaped into the air and performed a spectacular triple back handspring down the stairs, ending up on his feet right next to Mom. Without a word he had kissed her goodbye and walked out the door.

Spider-Girl was on involuntary leave, without a decent explanation. Dad had simply told me to take a break for awhile. I had no idea why, whether it was because of Nacht, Ladyhawk, or one of Dad's hunches. I had put up a furious argument, but was cut short because of Andrea Watson's untimely entrance. By the time I was able to talk freely again, Dad had gone out and Mom had steered me to the couch to watch a movie.

And all I had really been able to do was go to play practice. Either way, the next week was the last week of June and I felt like my precious days of freedom were slipping irrevocably down a drain of curtain calls and complete frustrated boredom.

Seven days later, I was fed up.

I headed downstairs the following at six o'clock Tuesday morning after tiptoeing past a peacefully snoozing Andrea. My costume was under my clothes, as always, even though Dad had evoked a sour and angry promise from me not to go patrolling.

It was already shaping up to be a gray, muggy morning, and distant thunder growled from the east. Benny was already up, reading a book on the den sofa with a huge tarantula perched on his shoulder and bubble gum in his mouth.

"_Guten Tag,_" Benny said, without looking up from his book.

"Since when do you speak German? Have you been in my room again?" I crossed my arms. "And where'd that spider come from?"

"His name's Troglodyte. Jim left him with me while they're in Florida." The tarantula tentatively stepped down his arm to pause on the back of his hand. It stared around curiously.

"Since when do you hide German books under your bed?" Benny turned the page, blowing a large pink bubble. He held up the book I had checked out from the school library the day before, _Pimsleur's German One_.

I threw up my hands. "That's not the point. Stop going through my things!"

"Do you have fifteen dollars I could borrow?" Benny interrupted, pointing at the tarantula, which was bigger than his hand. "I'm going to try and buy Trog off Jim once he gets back from vacation. Did you know tarantulas are the smartest spiders in the world?"

"I spent all of my money buying spandex and a ton of sequins so Marnie could make me a new fairy costume, and stay out of my stuff," I said bitterly. I thought about Felder's subsequent explosion when I had displayed the sad remains of Cobweb the fairy. It was the first of what people in the Midtown Players were starting to call Felder's "Krakatoa Moments".

Another thought occurred to me. "Benny! You're not going to put him on Andrea's pillow again, are you?"

Benny's face formed a mask of wide-eyed puzzlement. "Put Troglodyte Deathmonger the Third on my dearest cousin's pillow? What makes you think I would do such a thing?"

"It's not Andrea I'm worried about. She might swat him."

"Yeah, good point," Benny muttered. "It _was_ funny though."

I snorted. All right, maybe it was mean to laugh, but Benny had perpetrated his crime the night after Andrea had met Benny's new tarantula and launched into a rant about how much she hated spiders and how much better the world would be without them. That midnight, her banshee scream could have been heard six blocks away.

I headed for the door munching a breakfast bar, calling over my shoulder, "I'm going for a walk, okay? I'll be back in a while. Not patrolling."

"Not patrolling. 'Mmkay," said Benny, returning to the stolen book.

I shut the door behind me, took a deep breath, and burst into a flurry of coughing as I inhaled a lungfull of car exhaust. Finally, out of the house on my own! I didn't know what it was, but it was nice to be outside and alone again. I felt a little twinge of guilt. It wasn't that I _minded_ Dad or Harry going with me, it was just something about being by myself that I missed.

It wasn't like I was going patrolling, anyway.

I took the bus to the island and got off at the stop in front of the United Nations about thirty minutes later. All of the brightly colored flags were waving in the breeze. I sat on the metal bench at the corner for a few minutes, just watching people walk by. It was only six thirty-five on a summer morning, and the sidewalks were already jammed with people. There were a lot of tourists crossing the street, snapping pictures of obscure office buildings and buying overpriced Statue of Liberty models from a street vendor. I sat on the bench, just enjoying being on my own for once. At least no one was worrying about what I was doing or whether I was in trouble.

Speaking of trouble, where was Ladyhawk? Why hadn't she shown herself? Had she given up on being a vigilante? A flag snapped in the wind, making me look up. I picked out the U.S., Canada, Mexico, Britain, Germany...

Not to mention Nacht. I didn't have any idea of what to make of _that_ whole situation.

Taxis and buses and cars trundled past. I swung my feet, looking up at the skyscrapers that loomed overhead like canyon walls. The group of tourists came down the sidewalk, lead by a raucous tour guide with three-inch painted nails. They came to a stop right in front of me. Cameras went off as she pointed out the United Nations and went on about diplomats and momentous decisions that altered the fate of nations.

"And, more recently, in March of this year an international crisis was averted by New York City's resident crime-fighter, known locally as Spider-Girl. During critical negotiations, the Finnish ambassador-"

"Um...excuse me...can I say something?" I said quietly.

The tour guide turned around and gave me a look of utter distaste. "Can I help you with something?"

"No thanks. I just thought you should know it was the Polish ambassador."

She sneered and said, "During critical negotiations, the_ Finnish_ ambassador was nearly killed at the hands of eight assassins believed to have been sent by the Russian mafia. If not for the quick action of Spider-Girl, who was reported to have been in the area at the time, Europe might have..."

She went on in that vein for awhile, casting me a nasty look once or twice, as if daring me to correct her again. I looked as innocent as I knew how.

"Nice going." A young man at the back of the group said. "She needs someone to rattle her up. You from around here?"

"Queens."

"Oh. That Spider-Girl is really awesome. Wish we had someone like that in Tuscon. She fought off eight Russian mafia guys, huh?"

I shrugged. "Actually it was more like twelve."

"Now, if you'll follow me..." The tour guide said, and the group scurried off. The young man cast a confused glance at me and jogged after his companions.

Six forty-five. Seven. I got up and started walking. It was a nice day for webswinging; no glare from the sun. Thunder rumbled. Well, maybe not that nice, but not too hot and nicely breezy. Just going webswinging didn't really count as patrolling, right? As long as I just ran the length of Manhattan without stopping, right?

Right?

In the spirit of the thing?

A few minutes later I had left my outer clothes and shoes in a nearby alley and was scaling the wall of the Empire State University as Spider-Girl, technically not on patrol. I had to get webswinging again or I was going to explode with boredom. I reached the top of the building and jumped, throwing myself into a twirling dive and swinging back up into the air. In a moment of inspiration, I shot a webline and swung down the street to land on a lamp post above the same tour group.

People gasped and cameras went off. I waved. People were going, "Holy...! She's real!" "I thought it was a joke!" "Did you really save the Finnish ambassador?"

"Finnish?" I called. "He was Polish!"

The tour guide opened and closed her mouth soundlessly as I leaped and swung, speeding down the avenue as fast as I could swing.

I spent the next hour in a haphazard race through Manhattan, zigzagging

wildly around buildings and swinging so closely that my feet almost brushed the rooftops. I dropped from time to time to bound from building to building and ski down guard rails and fire escapes. It was wonderful just to be out again, free and almost flying.

The clouds were getting murkier as I hopped off a rooftop and landed on the steep gable of a boarded-up building the side of a townhouse, next to a smoke-fogged skylight. I was a little out of breath, and I looked around as I took a quick break. I didn't want to stick around. This was a rough area on the edges of Hell's Kitchen. People lounged against sooty walls covered in vulgar graffiti and garbage was strewn throughout the streets. Ancient cars with broken windshields lined the curbs, and a filthy, vicious-looking dog sat against a building and snarled.

New York City, as not seen in the travel brochures. Not a place to be if I wasn't supposed to be looking for trouble.

"Heck, man, you crazy? I ain't goin' in there. What's wrong with you?"

I frowned and peered over the edge of the roof.

"Nothin'. I just wanted to look around."

Two men were standing in front of the building, their hands in their pockets, one with a ratty Yankees baseball cap. They didn't look particularly clean or amiable. Your average street-corner thugs.

I looked down again. One of them was prying at the rotten two-by-four that barred the door. A sign hung there, but it was so faded it was impossible to make out. The two-by-four crumbled, and the first man kicked the door open and stepped in, out of sight.

Just going into an old abandoned building, but nothing serious. I flexed my fingers, ready to webswing again, when-

"Aaaaaah! Aaaaaaah! Aaaaaaah!"

"_Geht ihr hinaus!_"

The man came scrambling out, eyes wide. His friend was already tearing off down the street. The voice bellowed again.

"_Geht ihr hinaus! Get out! Get out!_"

A voice I'd heard before.

The man ran, tripped, and ran off after his comrade. People watched them wordlessly.

"There's somethin' in there!"

"No, really?"

I turned around and pressed my fingertips against the skylight window. I tugged and the square of glass came out, clinging to my fingers. I set it aside gently and peered into the space below. Darkness. I took a step forward and fell feet first into the building.

I landed silently fifteen feet below, in dimness dampened even more by the ominous storm clouds roiling overhead. I looked around. It was a deserted flat, with ancient paint peeling in twisted strips from the walls. Dust particles floated in the shaft of light from the empty skylight. A broken table leaned crookedly against a moth-eaten armchair with springs and stuffing poking through holes in its cushions.

"_Get out!_"

I spun around, peering into the shadows.

"_Geh hinaus! Geh weg!_"

I whirled again. Now the voice was coming from the opposite side of the house.

"_Geh..."_ The voice trailed off in midsentence.

I crossed my arms. "Shouldn't you know by now that that kind of thing doesn't scare me?"

One of the shadows in the corner shifted.

"_Hallo_," I said.

"Sp-Spider-Girl?" The shadow said. "You...here? Why?"

I blinked. Was his English improving? I said, "I was in the neighborhood, and I heard you shouting."

The shadow fidgeted, and as my eyes adjusted, I saw him crouching just beside a wooden chair, watching me nervously. His fur made him blend almost seamlessly into the dimness. I could see was wearing the same trench coat as he had a week ago.

"Well, uh...how've you been?" I said lamely, wondering what I was doing here at all. I should have just webswung away, and not interfered. Nacht, whoever he was, probably wanted to be left alone. It seemed that anyone who would scream "get out" at an interloper didn't want company.

Nacht frowned, seemed to concentrate, and said, "I...okay."

"Oh...well...all right," I said, glancing up to get in line with the skylight before I jumped. "Well...I'll, uh, see you, then."

"My English," he said suddenly. "Better, _ja_?"

"Yeah, it is," I agreed. "How? Do you talk to anyone?"

He blinked, uncomprehending. I said, "You talk? To people?"

"People?" Nacht shook his head violently. He raised an arm to point at the leaning table, and I took a closer look. It was piled with books, mostly paperbacks, tattered and waterstained. Many had pages torn out and covers ripped off, as if he had scrounged them somewhere. They were all in English, travel guides, cheap pulp novels, a telephone book. I saw a large book with German on the cover, maybe a Bible.

"You've been reading books in English?"

Nacht hesitated, mentally translating, and nodded. "And..." He pointed again, and I noticed a small radio sitting on the armrest of a chair.

"I...need learn English...if I here stay," Nacht said quietly.

"It's much better," I said. I hesitated for a moment, wondering whether it would be rude to ask...

"Are you from Germany...or Austria...?"

"_Deutschland_," Nacht answered. He straightened up. He seemed to always be crouching, even when standing. His shoulders were hunched, and he glanced around shyly. "_Bayern_."

"How...how did you get here?" I asked, avoiding the question that was really on my mind, which was _Who and what are you?_

"I...go on...p-plane," he said. "Hide. No one see. One see, think I with...circus."

I had lost my book at the circus...at a _German_ circus. "Are you with them? The one at Spencer Field?" Was he part of an act?

"No. That Hamburg circus. I...Munich circus. Different."

"Were you in a sideshow?" I asked.

That was the wrong thing to say.

"_Nein!_" Nacht's head snapped up, his yellow eyes blazing in the dimness. His strange hands were clenched, and his tail thrashed behind him. "I not in sideshow!_ Ich_...performer! A-a-acrobat! Flying t-trapeze! Not sideshow! Sideshow for..._ungewöhnlichen_! Only _ungewöhnlichen_! Freak! I not like others_, but I not freak!_"

He stared at me angrily. I said softly, "I'm sorry. No one likes to be called a freak."

Nacht looked down and sighed heavily, his anger seeming to melt away into weariness. "I...wrong...get angry. Not your fault. I sorry. _Tut mir leid_."

"Don't worry about it," I said. "I know exactly how you feel."

"_Sie_...you...not like others...also," Nacht said, very quietly, as if ashamed of his outburst.

"No, I'm not." I smiled crookedly under my mask. "Not like others, but not a freak."

Nacht looked up timidly. "I follow you...after you fight...in circus. I travel here...with them, but...they know not. I watch. Thought you...different too."

Thunder roared overhead. I flinched a little, and shrugged. "It's inherited. My...Nacht? Have you-"

Thunder cut me off again, and rain began sheeting down, pouring through the skylight. Nacht didn't seem to mind, only looked surprised. "Ah...I tell you...my name...Nachtkriecher,_ oder_? Not real name. Name for...performance. Mean...it mean..."

Nacht's brow furrowed. "It mean...night...cr-crawler. Nightcrawler."

"Nightcrawler," I repeated. Well, everyone had to have a stage name to be safe. I wondered why he had picked that name, which made me think of worms, but maybe it meant something different in Germany.

"Real name not Nightcrawler. I really called-_aaaaaaahh_!"

Nacht screamed, clapping his hands over his ears just as a horrible, familiar siren-like scream rent the air. I reeled backwards, clutching the sides of my head, my head pounding as if nails were being driven into my skull.

_Ladyhawk!_

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped, leaving the air ringing with dying sound. I stumbled to my feet. Nacht was crouched down, his head in his hands, tears of agony leaking from the corners of his eyes. I rushed over.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded weakly. "_Was_...what..."

"Stay here! I'll be back!"

My head still spinning, I shot web from both wrists and bounded straight up through the skylight, into the driving rain. I stared around, the rain plastering my mask against my face, half-blind.

_Bamf!_

I jumped in shock as Nacht materialized out of thin air a few feet away. There was no time to ask how he had done it. "Stay here!" I yelled over the storm. "It's Ladyhawk!"

"I come with!"

"No! _Nein!_ It's dangerous!_ Stay here_!" I shouted. I ran to the edge of the roof, about to webswing.

"_Aaaaaah!_"

I froze, whipping my head around. Another scream, high-pitched, but not ear-splitting. I took off to the left, swinging from the building. The rain battered me off course, and I almost missed my landing.

"No! No, no, _noooo!_"

Right behind me! I squinted through the downpour. Lightning sizzled through the clouds.

"Who's there?" I called.

A shape scrambled into view, tripping and stumbling and indistinct. It collapsed, and I saw the shadow of two huge wings.

I watched, stunned, as Ladyhawk fell, her hands clutching the sides of her head. "No...no, no, no..." It wasn't her usual arrogant sneer, it was a fearful, terrified whimper.

Fearful.

"No...I don't want to be terminated...was I bad? I'm sorry, Dr. Stromm...I'll be good, I promise...tell him not to terminate me...please..."

Ladyhawk grabbed the edge of a heating vent and hauled herself to her feet. Water streamed from her feathers. She staggered backwards, her face etched with horror, trapped in an unspeakable nightmare...backing towards the edge of the roof...

Ladyhawk overbalanced. Her wings flapped weakly; they didn't seem to be working...and she fell backwards.

I dashed forward, hurling myself over the edge of the building and catching hold of the gutter with one hand, firing a webline. It splattered against Ladyhawk's back, jerking her to a stop. Pulling myself back onto the roof, I hauled at the webline, pulling her back onto the rooftop.

"Whoa!" I ducked just as a swipe sent her talons whizzing an inch over my head. I backflipped out of the way, furious. I had just saved her, and she tried to rip my face open?

"Is it you?" Ladyhawk gasped. "Are you the one?"

"The one who just saved your life?" I shouted angrily.

Ladyhawk snarled, tottering unsteadily on her feet. "Are you doing this? Putting pictures in my head, trying to scare me?"

"What are you..." I started, when my voice died away. "Fear! Are you talking about fear? All of a sudden, for no reason?"

"So it _is_ you? You just-"

"_For once, will you shut up and listen?_" I yelled. "I'm not doing it! The same thing's happened to me!"

_Bamf!_

Nacht appeared next to me, soaking wet and bedraggled. Ladyhawk's gaze switched targets. "Or you?" She yelled at him. "Is it you?"

"What?" Nacht asked, bewildered. The storm raged around us.

Ladyhawk looked between us, and then her wings suddenly snapped open and she flapped upwards, vanishing into the rain without another word.

"What happen?" Nacht asked.

"I don't know," I said. Something was nagging at me, something that she'd said, some name...Dr. Stromm.

Dr. Stromm. I'd heard that name before, somewhere...

I snapped my fingers, remembering all at once. I turned to Nacht. "Are you up for some traveling?"

"As long no one see me. Why? What happen?"

"There's someone you need to meet, and someone who needs to know about this. We're going to see Harry."


	9. Chapter Eight: Fear

Chapter Eight

The rain was pounding down unmercifully ten minutes later as I climbed through the skylight of the den in Harry's wing of the Osborn brownstone, clinging to the ceiling to replace the square of glass. I blinked water out of my eyes as they adjusted. The den was huge and spacious, with walls paneled with dark wood and a vividly patterned Persian rug that stretched from one wall to the other. Stylized wall lamps softly illuminated the room with yellow light, placed inbetween bookshelves that reached to the ceiling. Between two of these bookshelves was a large, full-length mirror. An uncomfortable sofa faced a cold fireplace, flanked on both sides by equally stiff-looking armchairs. The whole room was imposing, oppresive, despite its incredible size. Something about it was too orderly, too perfectly arranged.

Other than the masks, the one creative touch. One entire wall of the den was covered with masks, hanging in artistic yet strict organization against the wooden paneling. Some were African, some were Asian, some with wide smiles and others with drooping frowns. Some were brightly colored and garish, and some dull and pedestrian. Yet all of them had those same gaping, empty eyes.

I had been in this room before, and hadn't gotten out soon enough. It had been some months ago, when Harry was newly arrived with his aunt to the Osborn mansion. Something about this room made me uncomfortable, something that I had never been able to put my finger on. I had brought it up to Harry as we left the study. He had gone silent for a few seconds, then said, "This used to be my father's study."

Then he had pulled the door shut.

Now, a white circle of light from a desk lamp clashed against the heavy tones of the study. In one corner was the only sign of disorder in the room, a computer desk that was packed with a monitor, printer, scanner, and other gadgets I couldn't identify. Pencils and paperback books were flung haphazardly over it, and Harry was leaning back in a swivel chair, hair touseled, reading a Web page.

I released my grip and dropped down to the floor.

"What the..." Harry jumped up, sending the chair spinning away behind him. He looked like he had just woken up. "Oh...Mayday," he said, blinking owlishly at me. Thunder rumbled. "Can't you warn me before you do that? Jeeze..."

I cast a quick glance at the door, and was relieved to see that it was closed. "Harry, you won't believe this. Ladyhawk was just...oh, wait..." I paused. "Try not to get nervous, all right? He's not dangerous."

"Whoa, whoa, what?" Harry stared incredulously, looking thoroughly bemused. I looked up at the skylight and called, "Nacht!"

_Bamf!_

I heard Harry taken in his breath sharply as Nacht snapped into existence a few feet away, standing forlornly in full view, water streaming from his coat He looked very out of place. Harry stared at him, his mouith slightly open.

"Harry, this is Nachtkriecher," I said briskly. "Nacht, this is my friend Harry Osborn."

Harry remained silent for a few seconds, then said slowly, "Hello."

"_Hallo_," Nacht mumbled, casting a glance at me out of the corner of his eye. He tried a smile. I'm sure he was trying to be friendly, but all it did was display a mouth full of very pointed white teeth. Harry didn't return the gestured.

"You can...teleport?" He asked, his voice wary. Nacht blinked, uncomprehending. Harry said, "What you just did. You teleported."

Nacht shrugged. I don't know if he fully understood. Harry sat back down in the swivel chair. I said, "Harry, we've seen Ladyhawk." I quickly outlined what had just happened, ending with, "And she kept talking to a doctor. I know I've heard that name before. Dr. Stromm."

Harry had been frowning down as I told my story, but his head came up at the name. "Dr. Stromm?"

I nodded. Harry went silent, frowning again. Nacht fidgeted, his tail flicking back and forth behind him._ I shouldn't have told him to come_, I thought belatedly.

"Are you sure that's what she said?" Harry asked.

"Positive," I said.

Harry paused, and said, "Dr. Stromm has been dead for over seven years."

"Then what means...that she of him spoke?" Nacht spoke up. Harry's eyes flickered uneasily between Nacht and my mask. He finally spoke to me.

"Dr. Stromm was my dad's research partner," said Harry. "I think I might've met him a long time ago. But he was found dead one morning in one of the OsCorp labs. Broken neck. I remember that part pretty well. The police said it looked like someone just picked him up and threw him." Harry gave a look that was between a wry smile and a grimace. "Apparently he ticked off the Green Goblin."

"Green Goblin?" Nacht repeated. "Who is Green Goblin?"

"You really don't want to know," Harry said shortly.

Silence, except for the rain pounding against the roof. I heard footsteps down the corridor outside. Thunder growled menacingly.

"Is necessary...that I stay?" Nacht asked. "I want not...that someone my place find."

"Oh...no problem," I said. "I'm-"

_Bamf!_

Nacht vanished before I could finish my sentence, leaving me with the feeling that this meeting hadn't gone at all the way it had supposed to. Harry suddenly became a lot more animated. He stood up.

"Mayday, _what is he?_"

"How should_ I _know?" I retorted. "He's not dangerous, and you really could have been a little more polite."

"_Polite?_ I'd like to see _you_ be polite when someone like that shows up in your living room! Did you see that guy?"

I glared at him underneath my mask, starting to get angry. "Then all that time I spent convincing him not to eat anyone on the way was wasted."

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, making it even wilder. "He showed up at your house! That means he knows who you are! Now he knows both of us!"

I threw up my hands. "Who's he going to tell? He lives all by himself in Hell's Kitchen, and he barely speaks English!"

"You don't know anything about him, do you?" Harry asked, glowering. "So where's he from, Germany? He's not human. How did he get here? Why is he here? What's his real name? Can you tell me that?"

"I never thought I'd see _you_ judging someone just because they're different," I snapped.

"You don't even know what he is!"

"_I_ trust him!"

"Like you trusted Garcia!" Harry shouted. The room reverberated with his last word.

I stared at him, hot fury beginning to boil inside me. "Don't you bring that up."

"You're too trusting, Mayday! You're always too trusting! Don't you get it?" Harry demanded. "You trust everyone! And look what happens? They try to kill you! Did you forget that already?"

"How could I forget?" I yelled. "I'll never forget because _you_ were one of them!"

The color drained from Harry's face. I closed my mouth, suddenly realizing what I had just said.

"Harry? What's all the yelling?"

In a reflex I jumped straight up into the air, my back hitting the ceiling. I hung there from my fingertips and the soles of my feet as the door opened and Harry's aunt popped her head in. Harry started fumbling for an explanation, and I didn't wait to hear it. I quietly removed the skylight and climbed back out into the rain, raging inside and almost none the wiser than I had been before.

Friday was the Fourth of July, and by far the craziest day of the summer, if you didn't count inadvertently becoming part of a circus performance or meeting a teleporting German boy named Nacht. Most of the day was hectic because of the obligatory Parker-Watson get-together for dinner and the city fireworks show. This time, however, was different from the usual. For one, this would be the first time in five years Dad had spent a real holiday with us. That, and since Andrea was spending the summer, Grandma was coming from Long Island to spend the day.

That, and I hadn't spoken to Harry since I left his house that day.

I was rudely awakened at that morning by Mom flashing the bedroom lights on and saying something horribly cheerful.

"Aunt Maaaaaary," I heard Andrea whine. I just put my pillow over my head and tried to remember a wonderful dream involving hours and hours of undisturbed sleep.

"Time to get up, girls!" Mom said, in what I thought was disgustingly good spirits for so early in the morning. I opened my eyes a crack and saw her standing in the doorway with her hair tied back and her sleeves rolled up with a small vacuum cleaner in one hand.

"Mmmph," I replied eloquently, peering at the alarm clock. "Mom, it's..._five in the morning_?"

"In twelve hours your grandmother will be here and this house is going to be _immaculate_, capiche? We've got work to do. Look at this room; it looks like the tazmanian devil got loose in here. Up, up!" I heard her start down the stairs.

Who could sleep under that kind of onslaught? "This is cruel and unusual, Mom!" I called as I sat up and yawned, brushing a hand over my eyes and blinking.

"My grandmother's coming?" Andrea asked.

I blinked at her, still groggy. "Hm? Oh...uh-huh...Grandma usually does."

Andrea sat up, squinting at me over her pillow. "She comes over? When, like weekends or something?"

I threw off my covers and swung my legs over the side of my bed, yawning again. "No, it's too far. She lives in Montauk now...that's way on the other end of Long Island," I added, seeing Andrea's confused scowl. "She calls every few days to say hi."

"Funny," Andrea said wryly. "She never calls _me_."

She tossed her covers off and went into the hall. I heard the bathroom door slam shut.

I stared after my cousin, disconcerted. Well, of course. Grandma had four grandchildren, not two. Andrea and Ed lived on the other side of the country, and saw us so rarely, I sometimes forgot we shared the same grandmother. Grandma Watson called our house regularly, and always asked to talk to me or Benny or both. She would ask how things were going with school or friends, but mostly just talk with us. Didn't she call Andrea or Ed?

I kicked at the carpet with my toes. I didn't like the conclusion that was forming in my head. All I could do was hope that I was wrong.

The rest of the day was spent in a state so chaotic that I barely had time to think about Nacht or Ladyhawk or the mysterious Dr. Stromm. Dad had commandeered me and Benny to help him clean the barbecue grill as soon as we had come downstairs. After that, it was raking leaves, then helping Mom cook something that seemed to require the use of every kitchen appliance at once, then trying to just clear up the clutter around the house.

Andrea was exempt, of course.

Despite the unfairness of the whole thing, I barely had time to complain as I turned a disaster area into something that looked like a normal bedroom. That consisted of picking up everything on the floor and stuffing it in the closet. Nevertheless, it was almost dark by the time the house was ready for guests.

At seven o'clock I collapsed on the couch in the den next to Benny, who was watching_ Independence Day_.

"Mayday, when'm I going to get spider-powers?" Benny asked abruptly.

I turned to my brother as Bill Pullman said something dramatic. "Sorry?"

"You know, web-shooting and wallcrawling and spider-sense and stuff," Benny said.

I blinked. "Well...um...I'm almost sixteen now. I guess you'll be about fifteen or so. Who knows? Why?"

"No reason," Benny said

He trailed off. I frowned and turned to look at him. His face was nearly white against his bright red hair. "Benny?"

Benny turned back to the TV and picked up a bag of chips in complete silence.

"Benny, what's wrong?" I pulled the bag away and dropped it on the coffee table. Benny didn't protest at all, and I started to become seriously worried.

"Benny, talk to me!" I demanded. Benny looked away, and to my horror, I saw his eyes filling with tears.

"Benny, what's wrong? What-"

"_Leave me alone!_"

Benny dropped his plate on the coffee table and vaulted over the sofa, running out of the room. I heard his footsteps pounding up the stairs and his bedroom door slamming.

I turned off the television, staring after him. What was that? That wasn't a tantrum; I didn't know what it was. I had never seen Benny act like that before. What was going on? The doorbell interrupted my thoughts. Sighing, I got up to answer it, only to have Mom come from the kitchen and open the door.

"Mary Jane, dear!"

It was Grandma Watson. She threw her arms around me and I hugged her carefully back. She was just a few inches taller than me, with fuzzy gray hair that still had a few tinges of red. As always, she refused to call me Mayday, and was the only one in the family who we thought ought not to know about Spider-Man and Spider-Girl just yet.

I went into the kitchen aimlessly, not feeling much like talking. My eyes fell on the phone, and reminded me of something that had been bothering me for days.

Harry. I didn't want to talk to Harry, criticizing _me_ for being reckless...

_Where are you, Spider-Girl? Come out!_

I shuddered. Harry, Benny, Nacht, Ladyhawk...this was getting to be too much to worry about. I heard Mom and Grandma's voices in the hall, but somehow I couldn't make out what they were saying.

In the midst of my thoughts I heard a sudden loud sound from directly behind me. A very familiar sound.

_Bamf!_

I spun around and my jaw dropped.

Standing in the middle of a normal kitchen inside a normal Queens townhouse, awkward, crouched, with a long, twtiching tail, was none other than Nachtkriecher.

My mouth opened and closed soundlessly for a few seconds. My voice suddenly decided to return as a squeak. "_Nacht!" _I gasped. "Wha-...wha-..."

Nacht blinked, his yellow eyes flickering about uneasily. He said frantically, "Spider-Girl! I must tell you-"

"How did you...what are you doing here?" I gasped. My astonishment turned to horror as I heard my grandmother's voice from the hall.

"May? Are you in there?"

"Spider-Girl!" Nacht repeated, his eyes wide. "Very important! In place...many trees and people..."

"May?"

Abject panic swept over me. This was terrible! If someone saw him..."Nacht! Teleport! Go outside, or upstairs, something!"

"I can't!"

"_Why not?_" I wailed, aghast.

Nacht wrung his strange hands. "I know not...what rest of house looks like!"

"May?"

I put my hands on Nacht's shoulders and shoved him down behind the island as Grandma Watson walked into the kitchen. I forced a sickly grin onto my face. "Grandma...! Hi...!"

Grandma came around the island. Nacht scrambled around on his hands and knees to the other side, his tail disappearing around the corner. She hugged me, and I was surprised that she didn't hear my heart pounding. "It's so good to see you, May! How have you been?"

"Oh...I've been...uh...okay," I stuttered. "And...uh...how have you been, Grandma?"

Grandma answered animatedly, but I didn't understand a word of it. Nacht popped up on the other side of the island, behind Grandma's back, waving his hands and mouthing something at me. Grandma turned around. Nacht ducked back down.

"And where has Ben gotten to..." Grandma walked around the island before I could stop her, just as Nacht came scrambling back again to my side.

This would have been stupidly funny if the situation wasn't so serious. If Grandma saw him...

"Benny's upstairs! In his room! Right now!" I said, my voice so high I sounded hysterical.

Grandma looked at me curiously, and said, "May, are you all right?"

"Am I all right? Hah hah hah!" I practically shouted. "Perfect! I've never been better! Why do you ask?"

Grandma stared at me. "All right...if you say so. I'll go say hello to Ben."

She went out. Nacht sprang up again.

I hissed, "What are you doing? You can't let her see you! How did you-"

"Spider-Girl, listen! Something happens! Is awful! I saw-"

"Someone's coming!" I whirled to face the door. Nacht crouched down again as Dad walked in.

I almost collapsed with relief. "Dad! You won't believe this, but-"

"Uncle Pete!" Andrea stomped in after him, and my heart sank again. Dad cast me a bemused look as Andrea started complaining.

"Benny's stupid spider's in my room again! Why can't he keep it in a cage or something? He can't-"

"Who's ready to eat?" Now _Mom_ popped into the kitchen. She started herding us into the dining room.

"Mom, listen!" I whispered as we entered the dining room, leaving Nacht stranded and hidden behind the kitchen island. "Someone's in the-"

"Isn't it nice to have the family together again?" Grandma gushed as she came in from the hall, leading a morose Benny by the hand. I felt like screaming. I could feel sweat starting to trickle down the back of my neck. The table was already set, but I barely noticed what was on it, though Mom seemed very pleased with the results. My heart was hammering against my ribs. If Nacht would only stay were he was, maybe we could survive this...

No sooner had I thought this than everyone in the room clapped their hands over their ears as a raucous noise blasted through the house.

"_WE WILL NOT GO QUIETLY INTO THE NIGHT! WE WILL NOT VANISH WITHOUT A FIGHT!"_

Nacht had turned on the television!

The volume was up at full blast, and I heard the channels changing from the movie, to a commercial, to the weather channel.

"_AND FOR WEATHER IN TEXAS, SKIES IN HOUSTON SHOULD BE CLEAR WITH A HIGH OF...STUDIES HAVE SHOWN THAT A BALANCED DIET INCLUDING CHEERIOS REDUCES...A SCENE OF COMPLETE CHAOS AT THE CENTRAL PARK INDEPENDENCE DAY FESTIVITIES..."_

"How on earth did that turn on?" Grandma yelled over the noise.

"I'll fix it!" I dashed out of the room, sprinting through the kitchen and into the den, where Nacht stood jabbing the remote at the TV. I slamed the mute button, grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.

"Are you _insane?_ What are you trying to-"

"Look!" Nacht stabbed a finger at the screen. "Spider-Girl! _Look!"_

I turned around. The television was on CNN. A camera was bouncing around a late evening scene, over a sidewalk, trees. I saw an overturned carriage with a horse struggling to escape, bent-fendered cars, and people running. I turned the volume up as a reporter appeared in front of the pandemonium.

"I don't know _what's_ going on here!" The reporter yelled. Sirens screamed behind him. A car smashed into a street lamp. "Something is happening in the park! The annual festivites were interrupted just moments ago when this panic broke out! It's chaos! I've never seen anything like this! It's like something terrified..."

As we watched, the reporter stopped in midsentence. His face blanched. He dropped his microphone as an expression of horrible fear seeped over his face, and the camera dropped to the ground with a crack.

Fear.

I ran for the door.


	10. Chapter Nine: Anubis

Chapter Nine

I hurtled over the bridge as Spider-Girl, swinging and leaping so fast my muscles screamed in protest. The sun had set, and the sky was darkening. I wasn't even thinking of explanations as a webline sent me flying onto Manhattan Island, far ahead of the following Nacht. I landed on a rooftop as he caught up, then webswung again, dodging a police helicopter headed in the same direction.

Central Park came into view, a huge expanse of green amidst the steel canyons of the island. Panting, I landed on a windowsill of an apartment building facing the park, fifty stories up. Nacht appeared beside me.

Central Park was empty. I didn't see a flicker of movement, even from my height. It was ringed with dozens of police cruisers and ambulances. Hundreds of normal pedestrians huddled together, talking and crying. The helicopter buzzed over the park, its searchlight sweeping the treetops.

"I was on top of building, watching show," said Nacht. "Then was there so much running...and screaming..."

"And fear," I murmured. "Horrible fear."

I pushed off and dived towards the trees, straight over the police cars into a mass of green. Thrusting out my arms, I shot web from both wrists to break my fall with a bone-jarring jolt. I released and dropped. My feet landed on grass.

What had happened here? What was going on? What was I dealing with? Questions raced through my mind as I took in my surroundings. Muffled by the acres of trees, the normal sounds of the city were faint and far away. I was standing on the edge of a rocky slope that led down to an artificially carved creek. It was hot, dark, quiet. The trees cast black, shifting shadows that oozed around the circles of light from lamp posts, and the breeze made their leave rustle like whispering ghosts.

Nacht materialized with a _bamf_. "Go back!" I said. "This is dangerous. I don't know what's in here!"

Nacht's yellow eyes were huge; he looked frightened, but he shook his head stubbornly. "I stay."

There was no time to argue. I started walking down the path, Nacht following, moving his head from side to side in that weird, catlike movement. It was quiet now. Central Park was enveloped in a silence that was unheard of in the heart of Manhattan. The heat shimmered in the light of the lamp posts interspersed along the path. The shadows grew deeper. My spider-sense tingled at the base of my skull.

"_Vater unser im Himmel, geheiligt werde dein Name. Dein Reich komme, Dein Wille geschehe, wie im Himmel, so auf Erden. Unser tägliches..." _Nacht muttered under his breath in a steady, chanting rhythm. It sounded like a prayer.

The trees parted and we came to the amphitheater. The grass was flattened and covered with litter. On the stage were overturned speakers and forgotten drums and guitars. American flags drooped listlessly in the stillness.

Silence and darkness.

Then it happened. My spider-sense ceased, shutting off as if a switch had been flipped. I clapped my hands to the sides of my head, feeling like I had suddenly been suffocated. It was gone! My spider-sense! What was happening to me?

_I knew that you would come here, Spider-Girl_.

I gasped. I looked at Nacht, and he looked back, his eyes huge. "Did you hear that?" I asked.

He nodded, then tapped his forehead. "In here."

"Who's there?" I called into the darkness, trying to sound cocky and unafraid.

_It is no use trying to fool me, Spider-Girl. I know that you are frightened._

I swallowed hard. The sounds were in my head. A strange, resonating voice, speaking in an emotionless monotone.

"Who are you?" I demanded of the emptiness. I couldn't see anything. "What do you want?"

_The latter is none of your concern. However, the former..._

I saw something move, step out of the darkness of the trees. A black shadow, stepping into the light...

"_Mein Gott_," Nacht whispered.

I stared, stunned, at the figure standing there. It was tall, well over six feet It was a man, but covered from the neck down in what seemed to be golden, linked chain mail. Dark brown leather bands attached golden armor plates to elbows and knees, and a belt wrought with strange, glittering designs wrapped around his waist. A flat, fanlike collar of the same gold wrapped around his neck, but it was the head that made me gasp.

The man's head was completely covered by a huge, helmet-like mask that sat on his shoulders. It was dark brown, with slitted, opaque, coppery-orange eyes, and a muzzle from which carved, white fangs could be seen in a canine mouth.

It was shaped like the head of a jackal.

What _was_ this? Who was that?

"I know that you recognize my form," said the figure, out loud, in that same echoing monotone. "I see every thought in your mind as clearly as if it were my own. I see that you have already given me my name. Tell me."

"Anubis," I said. The word just tumbled out of my mouth. I hadn't meant to answer, yet I had.

I hadn't meant to answer...

"It's you!" I said. "It's been you all along. You made me say things I didn't want to say, controlling me...why?"

"Spare me your righteous anger, Spider-Girl," said the man, Anubis. "You and your comrade Ladyhawk were simply in my way at the occasions of your incapacitation."

"Ladyhawk isn't my _comrade_," I spat. "I don't keep company with murderers."

"Do you not?" The flat voice held the barest hint of some black amusement. The jackal headed mask inclined slightly, looking past me. "Spider-Girl does not keep company with murderers? What say you to that, Kurt Wagner?"

He raised one hand and brought it down against his mailed palm with a sharp _crack_, like the breaking of bone.

Kurt Wagner? Did he mean Nacht? I turned and saw Nacht behind me, motionless, his face blanching under his fur.

"_Nein_...accident...I never meant to..._aaaaaargh!_"

He lurched backwards, his face contorting in panic. A stream of German burst from his mouth, and his eyes stared at the ground, jumping from empty space to empty space, locked on something only he could see.

"_Nein, oh nein...die Kinder...warum, Stephan?_" Nacht's voice rose to a shriek. "_Mein Gott, nein!"_

The terror attacks. Anubis._ He_ was doing it! He had been doing it all along, and tonight on a huge scale...I had to stop this!

"_What do you want?_" I yelled. I whipped my arms up, ready to fire, and froze.

Anubis's arm came up. He crooked a finger. "Come here, Spider-Girl."

My arms dropped. My legs began to move, carrying me forward, across the grass.

_No!_

I stopped. What was I doing?

"I told you to come here, Spider-Girl! _Obey me!_"

Red-hot pain lanced through my head, clouding my vision. I strangled a gasp. No! I couldn't...I wouldn't...

The pain hit again, stabbing, burning, worse than before...I started to walk forward.

"Spider-Girl!" I heard Nacht cry from far away, his voice weak. "No! Don't listen!"

I couldn't stop walking...I was only ten feet away now, eight feet, five, three...I had to stop! I couldn't...

Something rushed past overhead. The jackal head tilted towards the sky, and in that split second I found the will to ball my hand into a fist and send it smashing forward with all of my strength.

My knuckles connected solidly with chain mail. Anubis flew backwards, crashing into the lamp post with a sickening thud. My smothered spider-sense gave me no warning as the shadow crashed to the ground and unfolded a pair of giant wings. I staggered, gasping, in control once more, my head throbbing, trembling at how close I had come to...

"Spider-Girl! What is the meaning of this?" Ladyhawk snarled, the patches of light and shadow giving her birdlike mask a gaunt, skeletal cast. Then her eyes widened looking past me...

I didn't think; I sprang into the air. Something slashed the space beneath me. I backflipped, landing on my feet as Anubis slowly turned. Something silver glittered in both of his hands. Razored edges gleamed in the lamp light. He raised his hands, and I saw two curved, sharp blades in the shape of crescent moons. Egyptian sickles.

"HAF zero one, this does not involve you," Anubis intoned. He didn't look at all shaken from my blow. "You are allowed to leave unharmed."

Ladyhawk reeled back as though struck. "How do you...how could you know-"

She stopped speaking as Anubis sprang, not at her, but at me. I bounded into the air and whirled around, handspringing out of the path of the deadly sickles.

"Aaah!" I landed crouched on the grass, feeling hot blood trickling down my arm from the shallow, surgically precise gash in my shoulder. It hurt; I tried not to look at the wound. That shouldn't have happened, but without my spider-sense...

Then Ladyhawk flapped past me, shoving me aside. "_Stay out of my way!" _

She pulled back her arm, talons extended, until Anubis, observing her charge with unnatural impassiveness, suddenly spun on his feet and delivered a tremendous spinning kick to her head.

Ladyhawk tumbled to the ground and I sprinted forward, dodging away from Ladyhawk and straight for the figure, droplets of my own blood spattering the grass. Anubis turned, raised one weapon, and I fired a webline.

In a single movement, faster than a striking snake, Anubis's left hand snapped out and snatched the end of the webline out of the air.

"Only fools resist me, Spider-Girl," he said. He wrenched. I couldn't release in time; I went flying over his head, into the wall of trees. My heart in my throat, I webslung wildly, feeling the line connect and jerk me to a stop just before my spine crashed against the trunk of a huge oak tree.

A paralyzing screech rent the night, reverberating throughout the amphitheater. Ladyhawk was in the air again, diving at Anubis, her face set in a rabid snarl. I watched groggily as Anubis adjusted his grip on the sickle to point one finger at Ladyhawk.

Ladyhawk pulled up short and fell to the ground like a stone, screaming. "No, please! Tell him not to, Doctor! I'll be good, I promise! Please!"

Appalled, I struggled to my feet. He was a madman, this creature...why was he doing this? How could I stop him, when he could do this, trap people in their own minds?

I raced at him as he stepped to the crumpled form of Ladyhawk. Lamp light gleamed along the edges of the sickles as he raised them over his head...

I hurled myself at him in a desperate tackle. Too far. I was too far!

Then, from the other end of the clearing, a shadow swooped forward. Nacht threw himself over Ladyhawk, and-

_Bamf!_

The sickles thudded into the ground, slicing furrows into the turf where Nacht and Ladyhawk had been an instant before. There was a second _bamf_, and then they reappeared in a bluish, smoky cloud, on the other side of the amphitheater.

That was all the time I needed. I jumped, spinning into the air, and kicked.

"_Aaaaargh!_"

Anubis grabbed my ankle and flung me away. I couldn't react; my spider-sense was lifeless. The wall of the amphitheater slammed into my back, and my head cracked against it. Flashes of light exploded in my eyes, and I heard footsteps advancing towards me.

"Now," said Anubis softly, "It is your turn, Spider-Girl."

My turn? I struggled to my feet, about to websling, when-

I wasn't in Central Park anymore. It was cold, freezing. I was in a huge corridor, standing on a grilled floor. The ocean roared just beyond those metal walls, and machinery throbbed in the distance. It was dim, echoing.

"This isn't real," I whispered. I pressed my hands against my face and felt pain shoot up my right arm from a broken hand.

CLIKCLIKCLIKCLIKCLIKKK!

They were everywhere! All around me, pointed javelin legs, serrated mandibles snapping...spiderbots, hundreds of them...

"This isn't real," I whispered. "This can't be real. This place is gone...this isn't real."

"Oh, it's real enough, Mayday," said a high, hissing voice. Suddenly there was a shape before me, where the space had been empty before. A tall, spindly, black shape, hollow fangs bared, six claw-tipped arms unfolding...

Terror swept through my veins like ice. "You're dead!" I shouted. "You're not real! None of this is real!"

Black Widow stalked forward, alive, solid, hissing viciously around huge fangs, a malevolent gleam shining in two dead, black eyes. I backed away, feeling cold steel against my back. The swarm of spiderbots scuttled around us, encircling us.

"Never thought you'd have to deal with _me_ again, did you? Never thought you'd come back here? The death of your father wasn't enough to keep you away, was it?"

"My father's not dead," I stammered. My words caught in my throat and cracked.

Black Widow nodded. "Oh, yes he is, Mayday Parker. He's been dead for five years. Don't you remember?"

"My father's not dead!" I screamed. "He's alive, he's here somewhere! He's not dead! _My father isn't dead!_"

I turned. I had to run, get away...I had to find Dad...he wasn't dead...she was lying...lying, lying, lying...

I turned to a blank wall. There was nowhere to run. Whirling again, I found myself facing an empty corridor. Black Widow and the spiderbots were gone.

I ran. I ran so fast that the walls blurred around me. Noise screamed in my ears: shouts, manic laughter, mocking jeers...

And then Harry was there in front of me. He stood with his back to me, his armor on but his helmet no where to be seen. I didn't know how he had gotten there, but I had to tell him...

"Harry!" I gasped. "Black Widow! She's back! I don't know how, but she's back! We-"

Harry started to laugh. A high, mad, diabolical cackle. He spun, and then one gloved hand clenched around my throat and slammed me into the wall, and Harry's face was inches from mine. A face deathly white, twisted into a skeletal grin, an insane light dancing in his eyes. I saw his other hand drawing back, and hand that held a short, three-pronged razored trident.

"Too trusting, Mayday," Hobgoblin whispered. "Always too trusting. You never know when someone you trust will try to kill you." He laughed softly. "After all...I'm one of them."

The trident stabbed forward.

"_Nooooooo!_"

There was an enormous roar, a flash of light, and I was falling, facefirst into grass and pebbles. My face hit the ground. My shoulder throbbed. I didn't move.

"Mayday, get up! Mayday!" Someone seized my shoulders, pulled me up, and I was staring into the masked face of Hobgoblin.

_"Get away from me!_" I shrieked. I shoved him away. The world spun around me in a dizzying circle. Trees, lamps, flags...Central Park. Nacht was on his feet, his yellow eyes glowing with fear, and Ladyhawk was crouched there, wings spread, hissing. And Harry. Harry, not Hobgoblin

_Another country heard from_. Anubis's voice rang through my head once more. _What an odd collection there is before me_.

As the terror faded, winging back to wherever it had come from, I saw that were were all in a line, facing him. Nacht, his tail thrashing, eyes slitted, me, swaying on my feet, Harry, armored, his hands balled into fists and his glider hovering beside him, and Ladyhawk, flexing her claws as if she would like nothing better than to sink them into Anubis's flesh.

He stood there, the sickles now not in his hands but dangling from his belt. The burnished jackal eyes reflected the lamp light, filling them with fire.

"Who are you?" Harry shouted. "What do you think you're doing?"

_Only fools resist me_, Anubis said, not to Harry, but to me. _And that is why, young fools, you must be punished._

"As if you haven't done enough of that already," Ladyhawk snarled.

_I have done nothing yet_, the silent voice said smoothly. _For now one of you will die._

Anubis raised his hand._ And that one_, he said, _will die screaming_.

The mailed hand moved along our pitiful little barrier, pointing to each of us in turn, one by one. A shudder ran through me as the hand pointed at me for a moment, then moved on, moved on to rest squarely on Nachtkriecher.

_You_, said Anubis.

I was the only one who saw it, because of the speed of his movement. I was the only one who saw the mailed hand twitch, and the dart shoot from Anubis's wrist.

Nacht collapsed. His knees buckled under him and he fell to the ground. At the same moment, another shape plummeted down, a shape that gripped Anubis's arm and lifted him right off the ground, flinging him across the field.

Standing in his place was Spider-Man.

Nacht took in a huge, gasping breath. I knelt beside him. He was crumpled on his back, like a broken marionette. Air was wheezing raggedly into his lungs. "Spider-Girl...can't feel...my legs..._aaaargh!_" Nacht screamed, his eyes squeezing shut, teeth bared, hands clenched in agony.

"Mayday! Get him out of here!" Dad yelled. I saw Anubis climbing to his feet, reaching for the twin sickles in his belt.

"Dad!" I yelled. "You don't know what he can do! You can't-"

Dad pointed at me. "Don't argue with me, Mayday! Get him out of here!"

"He's right!" Harry yelled.

Anubis was coming, charging...Dad was turning to meet him...

"_Go, now!_" Dad roared.

I couldn't leave him! I couldn't just-

Nacht gasped on the ground, strangled cries piercing the night. His eyes opened again, and I saw that his pupils were dilating.

He was dying.

I snatched him up, one arm under his shoulders, the other under his knees. I couldn't webswing while carrying him! Where could I take him, where could I...?

Harry jetted to a stop before me on his glider. "Get on! Hurry!" I ran forward, Nacht limp in my arms. Harry pulled me up, and the glider blasted straight up into the air and over the park.

"Dad!" I yelled. "_Dad!_" It would come true if we left him, what Black Widow said, all of it...

"There's only one person who we can take him to!" Harry shouted over the rushing wind. "Doc!"

Nacht stiffened in my grip, his muscles spasming, choked-off breaths shaking his body. Dying.

The dart. The poisoned dart.

The glider sped into the lights of the city.


	11. Chapter Ten: Screams

Chapter Ten

_"Mein Gott, mein Gott, warum hast du mich verlassen?"_

These words escaped him in an agonized moan as the glider soared into the maze of skyscrapers at an incredible speed. The wind rushed past my ears, making my eyes water even through the cloth of my mask. Night turned to day as we left the park. The streets below were jammed with people and street vendors, looking like millions of multicolored insects. Loud music was playing. The Independence Day festival.

Harry's grip around my shoulders tightened as the glider made a hairpin turn around the IBM building. Nacht stiffened in my arms, air rushing into his lungs in horrible, wheezing gasps. His hands were clenching each other so hard his knuckles were nearly white.

Something awful was taking place inside me. Dad was up against Anubis. Alone. I shouldn't have left him! I shouldn't have listened! He hadn't seen what I had, didn't know what Anubis was capable of...

He had told me to get Nacht out of there. And I had listened. I had listened. I had had the choice: help my father or leave my friend to die.

Friend? When had I started thinking of Nacht as my friend? I knew nothing about him, not who he was, what he was. I had every reason to _dis_trust him...yet I didn't.

Dad...I had to go back, I had to go back! He would lose! Anubis was going to kill him!

"Let me down!" I yelled over the wind. "Take Nacht to Doc! I've got to go back!"

"We're almost there! He told you to go!" Harry yelled back.

"No! He's going to-"

Nacht sucked in a ragged breath through gritted teeth. I felt a shudder run through him, and a choking, strangled sound issued from his lungs. "_Ich_...breathe...I can't..."

Harry's grip around my shoulders tightened. "Almost there...almost..."

The glider jerked again, nearly flipping over as Harry rounded a sharp corner in the maze and Manhattan General loomed before us. A sterile white light came from its revolving doors and emergency room, as crowded with cars and people as always. Harry didn't stop there; the glider flew over the hospital and towards the nondescript office complex behind it. Many of the windows were dark.

The glider stopped before the wall and then shot straight up, windows passing in a blur, coming to a stop before a wide office window obscured by wide flat blinds.

Harry didn't pause for a moment. He jerked his head, and at that instant I felt something shift in the glider under my feet. Twin pencil-thin beams of red light shot from two tiny ports in the glider's front, tracing the edges of the glass until the met and vanished. Harry placed his gloved palm against the glass and pushed. The entire window separated from the frame and fell into the room behind it, tearing the blinds down as it went and flooding us with light.

I tensed my legs and leaped into the room, trying not to jar Nacht as I landed. I saw that his face was white, and his fur was plastered to his face with sweat.

It was a doctor's waiting room, with two armchairs and a couch and patterned carpet. A floor lamp stood between the chairs, and another one beside sofa, illuminating the stack of old magazines and a tray of flyers. Next to the tray was a tiny holder filled with business cards, reading, "Robert Hiller, MD. General practitioner."

I heard a series of clicks, and Harry rushed past me, his armor fragmenting and folding into his gauntlets as he ran. He ran to the office door and wrenched it open. "Doc? Doc!"

Nacht trembled so violently that I nearly dropped him. "_Der H-Herr ist mein H-Hirte, mir w-w-wird nichts m-mangeln.._.oh _Herr Gott_...hurts...Spider-Girl..."

There was talking, loud voices, and suddenly Harry was back. A man in a doctor's coat was hurrying after him. He was a tall, African-American man with glasses, printed sheets and a pen in hand, as if he had just been doing paperwork. He stopped in his tracks.

"Spider-Girl! Mayday! What's going-" Doc Hiller's eyes found Nacht and widened enormously. "Who...what is _that_?"

"We don't know," Harry said. "But Anubis did something to him-"

"_What_? Who's Anu-"

"He's dying!" I said. "He's been poisoned! You know how to help him, don't you?"

"I know how to help _humans_!" Doc said. Nevertheless, he hurried towards us just as I tried to set Nacht on his feet, but his legs buckled under him. Harry grabbed Nacht's other arm and hoisted him up. Nacht's head lolled on his shoulders, and murmurs of German words and names were coming in gasps.

Doc reached for his pulse, then jerked his hand away. He held a two-inch, paper-thin needle up to the light, and I could see that it was tipped with something black. "What is this? A dart?"

Nacht gagged. His voice was weak, faint. "_Herr_ _Doktor_..._bitte._..help me..."

Doc's mouth compressed into a thin line, and he barked suddenly, "He's in shock. Get him to the office. Quick!"

"Come on," Harry muttered. Hurrying after him, I carried Nacht down the office hall as Doc slammed his fist against the intercom switch. "Andy? Send one of the interns up here with a general antitoxin, O-two, and twenty mil of epinephrine! Don't ask questions, just do it!"

Harry kicked another door open. It was a doctor's examining room, white, sterile, with a table and a wall clock and cabinets. Nacht was breathing faster in short, shallow pants. I lay Nacht on the bed. The paper crackled under him. Something fell from his coat and clattered to the floor.

"No..." Nacht moaned. "They must not...touch ground..."

I heard the door slam, and Doc was back, his arms full. He tossed the objects onto the counter and went to Nacht. His face was terse and drawn in an expression of intense concentration.

"Harry, get the electronic sphygmomanometer!"

Harry paused and stared at him. Doc snapped, "The blood pressure machine! Mayday, roll his sleeve up!"

Nacht's body rocked with shudders. His eyes were half-open, darting about, gazing at something only he could see. I fumbled with the sleeve of his trench coat, tearing it in my haste. Doc shoved it up his arm. I saw he had a syringe in his other hand. He said, "I hope his veins are where they ought to be," and injected the liquid into Nacht's arm. "What is this? Do you know? Artificial? Animal venom, plant...any idea?"

"I don't know!" I said.

Doc turned to Nacht. "What are you feeling? Talk to me!"

"Can't move...legs, arms...can't breathe...chest...hurts..."

Nacht screamed. It reverberated through the air.

Harry came over with a machine that I'd seen in every doctor's office, that seemed too pitifully mundane to stop what was happening. Harry strapped the cuff around Nacht's arm, and a moment later numbers were appearing on the digital screen. 180/157, 188/160, 193/169...

"His heart's going too fast. Mayday, get me the O-two! That thing over there!"

201/171, 212/180, 220/192...

I spun and shot a webline at the counter, snatching the object from the counter. It was a clear plastic oxygen mask. Doc grabbed it and placed it over Nacht's nose and mouth, connecting it to a tube running from the bed. He twisted a valve marked O2.I heard the hiss of air.

239/200, 250/223, 261/243...

Nacht made a dry choking noise. Sweat ran in rivers down his face. His hand clutched mine. "_Heilige Maria_...take pain away...please..._aaaaargh_!"

Nacht screamed again. The cry was a sound of pure agony, of unutterable pain.

290/269, 300/278, 311/290...The numbers were rising higher, faster and faster...

"He's going into cardiac arrest!" Doc said.

Nacht's grip went slack. His head lolled to the side, and his eyes closed. The numbers on the sphygmomanometer vanished, replaced by another reading.

0/0.

I stared at the screen. 0/0. Zero blood pressure.

His heart had stopped.

"_Doc!_" Harry yelled.

Doc was there, with a syringe larger than I had ever seen. He tore Nacht's trench coat open and stabbed the needle through his shirt, into the left side of his chest. The chamber emptied.

There was a thunderous sound, like a distant drum, pounding steadily. The ticking of the clock.

Nacht jerked on the table, and air rushed into his lungs in one great gasp. Doc tossed the syringe onto the counter. The sphygmomanometer beeped, and numbers started to climb.

"What was that?" Harry asked. I saw that his face was white.

"Epinephrine," Doc said. "Adrenaline." He wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his coat. "I hope I never have to do that again."

Nacht coughed dryly, but he breathed steadily.

"Now what?" I asked.

"Now," Doc said, "you tell me what the heck is going on."

My heart was still hammering against my ribs. My mouth was dry. Harry started to say something.

"_Rosary_."

Nacht's voice was hoarse. His eyes were closed, but one three-fingered hand pointed weakly at the floor. "_Gib mir mein Rosary_."

I saw something on the floor beside the bed. It was a string of glass beads. I picked it up and set it in his hand.

"_Danke...Amanda? Du bist es?_"

A stream of German burst from his mouth. His eyes were open now, looking directly at my mask, but glazed. His voice wavered, and sweat still dampened his face and soaked his collar.

"_Wieviel Uhr ist est? Wann beginnt die Vorstellung? Ich weiss es nicht genau...und sie will immer, dass wir vorspielen. Prima, ich komme bald dran..._"

"He's German?" Doc asked, looking exhausted and confused.

Then Nacht turned and began talking earnestly again, to empty space. The language was interrupted by harsh, racking coughs.

Harry stepped forward. He had something in his hand, something that looked like a thick metal disk. I could see minuscule keys and a tiny speaker. Harry was jabbing at it with a thin, almost invisible screwdriver.

"Been carrying this around lately," he said dully. "Thought it might be useful. Guess I was right."

He set the disk down on the bed, beside Nacht's head. There was a crackle of static, and then, "What time is it? When does the show start? I don't know exactly...and she always expects us to perform, too...great. It's my turn soon..."

It was Nacht's voice, but regurgitated in perfect, accentless English. A translator. I was too wrung out to ask Harry anything, only listen.

_"Nein, ich weiss nicht. Ihr habt heute Pech. Warte mal, wir haben morngen frei..._"

"No, sorry. You're out of luck. Wait, tomorrow we have the day off..."

"He's delirious," Doc said. His brusque tone was back. "Wait here. Watch him." He hurried out.

Nacht spoke again, the tone of his voice going up and down erratically. The translator dissolved into static. Harry reached for it. "Damn it, will anything work right tonight?"

His fingers had barely closed around the disk when Nacht sprang up. His hands clutched Harry's collar and jerked him forward, bringing their faces inches apart.

"_Stephan! Warum hast du es getan? Du warst mein Bruder! Mein Bruder!_" Nacht screamed, his yellow eyes wild, crazed. The translator in Harry's fist crackled to life.

"_Stephan! Why did you do it? You were my brother! My brother!"_

I grabbed his wrists and pried his fingers loose. Harry shoved himself away. Nacht twisted in my grip, his eyes squeezed shut, fingers curled into claws, shouting incoherently.

"Nacht!" I yelled. "Calm down! Listen to me! It's the poison! What you're seeing isn't real!"

Nacht pulled away, no longer screaming. He raised his own hands to his face, eyes huge, desperate. "_Ich nicht...ich könnte nicht haben...nein! Nein! Oh Gott, bitte! Nein!_"

"_I didn't...I couldn't have...no! No! Oh God, please! No!_"

Harry stared at me. I stared back. This wasn't a hallucination. What Nacht was seeing wasn't one of Anubis's nightmares. He was remembering something, something awful.

Doc was back, with a folded stack and a tray. He dropped the cloth on the counter and carried the tray to the table. Nacht collapsed limply, and a sob escaped him.

Wordlessly Doc swabbed his arm with alcohol and injected another medicine into his bloodstream. He dropped the syringe into the tray. "Pentobarbital. Short sedative."

Nacht's eyelids fluttered. Doc shook out the stack and it unfolded into what I saw was a hospital blanket. He covered Nacht with it, stepped back, and let out a deep breath. He turned to us wearily and said, "Talk."

Harry talked. I stood. I didn't seem to be able to move. An exhaustion that I hadn't felt for a long time washed over me like a tidal wave, numbing me, rooting me to the spot. I heard Harry's voice, saw Doc's face etched with astonishment...and remembered.

_Dad!_

I ran. I didn't give any explanation. I darted out of the room, into the waiting room. I charged straight for the window and leaped into the night air, slinging and swinging faster than I had in my life, back towards the park.

How long had it been since we had left? Had Dad gotten away? Had he stayed? Had he...

The green carpet of Central Park spread below me. The brigade of police cars was still there, only now at least ten ambulances were lined along the sidewalks.

The park was empty. I crossed it once, twice, three times, doubling back again and again. No Dad. No Anubis. No one at all.

_Home. He must be at home_, I thought. Muscles aching with strain, I webswung back, bouncing from skyscraper to skyscraper, catapulting over the bridge and back into Queens. I dove into the alley where I had changed and tore off my mask, throwing my clothes on over my costume. I sprinted out, tearing down the sidewalk, to my own front door.

I didn't have my key. I pounded the doorbell frantically, and seconds later the door swung open and Mom was there. "Mayday!"

Mom threw her arms around me. "Why did you do that? What happened? The news..."

"Anubis! It's Anubis...we fought and Nacht got hurt and Dad..." I babbled, "Dad stayed...where is he?"

Mom held me at arm's length, her face blanching. She said, "He isn't with you?"


	12. Chapter Eleven: Consequences

(A/N: My apologies for the long wait, and for returning with what may very well be some of the darkest chapters in this story.)

Chapter Eleven

Mom pulled me inside, letting the door swinging open into the yard. I started to stammer.

"But I went to the park and I looked all over and there were just ambulances and-"

I broke off, listening, the sound of my own heart thudding in my ears. The night air was still, only broken by the distant growl of traffic. Over that noise, I heard another distant sound, like the_ thwip_ of webslinging.

Through the door, I saw a silhouette swing onto a rooftop down the block, then begin to bound from house to house towards us. The figure, black against the distant lights of Manhattan, shot a webline at the roof of a two-story townhouse and swung. The swing was wild, unfocused, coming in much too fast...

"_Look out!_" Mom screamed.

Dad hit the ground with a sickening jar, his momentum sending him crashing into the chain link fence and tumbling back onto the concrete. Mom gasped, and we both rushed into the yard.

Dad lay where he had fallen without moving. He wasn't in costume; he was wearing the clothes he had worn this afternoon. Mom grabbed his shoulder. "Peter? Peter! Mayday, help me get him inside!"

"MJ," Dad mumbled. "Mayday...where's Mayday...?"

"I'm here, Dad! I'm right here!" I grabbed his other arm, and together Mom and I half-carried him into the house. Dad didn't make it. He collapsed heavily again, onto the hardwood floor of the front hall, his eyes closed. I took in my breath sharply as I saw Dad fully in the light.

A dozen cuts crisscrossed his face and arms. His face was blotched with deep swelling bruises, and I saw, feeling cold sweat begin prickle at the back of my neck, that on his left shoulder there was a jagged hole in his shirt. Blood pooled on the cloth and dripped to the floor.

"Peter! Talk to me! Peter! _Stay awake!_"

The normal, everyday noises of the house seemed amplified. The hum of the air conditioner, the ticking of the clock, the distant buzz of the refrigerator. They reverberated against the walls and glass windows and rang through my ears. Like the deafening crash of thunder, I heard footsteps on the stairs, in the hall, and Andrea stood blinking in the doorway.

"What's going on? What's all the, like..._Uncle Pete?_" Andrea's eyes became huge.

Her voice sharp, Mom said, "Andrea, go into the kitchen and call an ambulance! Your uncle's been attacked!"

Andrea didn't move. "But what-"

_"Do it!_" Mom yelled.

Andrea turned and ran out, her platforms thudding on the floor.

"Dad," I said hoarsely. I grabbed his arm. "Dad, wake up..."

Dad's eyelids flickered. "Cops," he croaked.

Mom snatched a dusty windbreaker from the coat rack and balled it up under Dad's head like a pillow. I took one of the sleeves and ripped it off. Mom realized what I was doing and took the sleeve, winding it around Dad's bloody shoulder. Dad sucked in his breath through clenched teeth, hissing. I felt bile rising in my throat.

Anubis.

"Cops...everywhere...shooting," Dad mumbled, his eyes closing. "Tried to...but he...and I went...and then something...hit my shoulder..." He coughed dryly. "I couldn't stop...MJ, where's Mayday...?"

"Daddy, I'm here, I'm right here," I said. My voice was tiny against the roar of the air around us, weak, sickly, trembling. It could have been for an instant that the three of us waited there, or centuries. I couldn't tell. Only when sirens rang outside and flashing red lights pattered the house and sidewalk, reflecting off the windows, did I move. When Mom jumped to her feet as two paramedics hurried in with a folding stretcher, jostling me, I jerked out of my stupor. They picked Dad up on the stretcher, rolling it down the pavement to the waiting, boxy shape of the ambulance.

Mom followed down the sidewalk. I ran down after her.

"Mayday, go back inside!"

"_Mom!_"

Mom spun and took me by the shoulders. Her face was white and lined. "Mayday, go back inside and stay with your brother and Andrea. Understand? _Protect them_. Don't let them out of your sight!"

Then she climbed into the ambulance, and the doors slammed after her. The driver ran around to the doors and jumped inside, and a second later the siren came to life again. The ambulance pulled away from the curb, racing down the darkened street and vanishing as it turned the corner.

The siren diminished, faded, leaving me standing numbly at the edge of the sidewalk, on the edge of the street lamp's pool of light, swallowed by the suffocating heat of the night.

I turned. I saw the light from the front door illuminating the sidewalk, and two silhouettes standing in the doorway, watching me. Andrea and Benny.

I began to walk back up the sidewalk. Andrea's silhouette straightened and disappeared. Benny didn't move. He stood staring at the place where the ambulance had parked. I pulled him away from the door and shut it.

Mayday, get him out of here. Mayday, don't argue with me. Mayday, go back inside.

Everything. People told me do something, and I did, like an obedient little pet. I should have argued. I should have stayed with Dad. I should have gone with Mom.

Spider-Girl, _achtung._ Spider-Girl, come here. Spider-Girl, obey me.

Even as Spider-Girl, I listened, following orders like a fool. And when I tried to resist, I followed anyway, unable to stop.

Spider-Girl, _help me_.

"What happened to Uncle Pete? Where did you guys go? Grandma had to leave so she wouldn't have to drive at night!"

Andrea was saying something. "What happened to Uncle Pete?"

"Attacked," I said dully.

"You mean, like mugged? He got shot! Or were you at the park or something?"

"The park?" My head snapped up and I stared at her. "Who said anything about the park?"

"It's like on the news, genius!" Andrea suddenly ran back into the den. I followed slowly. She pointed at the television. The green word MUTE was on the corner of the screen. Andrea pointed the remote at it and sat down on the couch. It was the local news, flashing "Special Report" on the scrolling news bar at the bottom of the screen.

"...this just in, the latest developments from the scene at Central Park," said the anchorwoman, wearing the grimmest of her grim expressions. "To add to the confusion, it appears that New York's very own Spider-Man has gone berserk. The report reads that of the NYPD officers present at the scene, twenty-three are injured, four seriously and at least eight critically All were rushed to Manhattan General..."

The screen suddenly switched to a middle-aged man in a baseball cap and T-shirt with and American flag. The camera bounced jerkily as he said, "Yeah, we were just waiting by the statue and then he just came flying out, right into all the cops, and they were just all over the place..."

Then the camera view switched again, this time to a hundred feet in the air; a helicopter's camera. My throat clenched so tightly that I could barely breathe as I saw Spider-Man, Dad, suddenly explode from the trees and into the line of police officers. The cameraman's voice blanketed the scene.

"What's he doing? Is he...oh my God,_ what is he doing_?"

Dad bounded into the crowd, whirling through the air. A pair of policemen were lifted off their feet and flung into the air, one crashing into a squad car. An overwhelming feeling of nausea choked me as Dad spun and kicked and webslung with perfect precision, but not against enemies. Against New York City police officers.

I closed my eyes, squeezed them shut. I couldn't watch anymore. I felt sick, so sick. I couldn't listen to the horrified words of the camera man, or the distant recorded gunshots or the shouting and screaming of the cops. I couldn't listen to Andrea. I turned around.

"Man, I _told_ you! I _told_ you these freaks were all a bunch of crooks! I've been saying..."

Anubis.

It was Anubis. Anubis had made him attack those policemen the same way he had made me walk deliberately within range of his sickles. Forced him to use years of skill and practice to decimate the police force, and leave him laying bleeding while approaching sirens wailed in the distance.

"All a bunch of-"

"Shut up, Andrea."

I had my back to her, but I heard her choke off her words and felt her stare.

"Huh?"

"I said shut up," I said. "Just shut up. You hear me? _Just shut up!_"

I turned back around, saw her gaping at me. Words were tumbling out of my mouth now, faster than I could reel them in. I didn't care.

"You don't know anything, so keep your mouth shut!" I shouted. "You know nothing! Understand? Nothing about the park, nothing about what happened, and _nothing about us freaks!_"

I was panting, gasping for breath. Andrea's shallow blue eyes were huge. I had to get out of here. I couldn't stand it anymore. I had to scream, to cry, to run and webswing away from my cousin, my house, everything. I had to get out. I had to get away from here. I turned away again, my vision blurry with anguish, when I realized the last thing I had screamed into her face.

_Us freaks_.

I froze in my tracks. What had I done? Had she realized? Did she know what it meant?

Silence.

There was a shape in the doorway to the hall. I blinked slowly. Red hair, t-shirt, jeans, sneakers. Benny.

Benny, holding onto the door frame with one hand with bloodless knuckles. His face was sickly white, his eyes fixed on the television screen behind me, the screen that was once again displaying our father sending police officers in every direction with brutal skill and speed.

"Benny," I said. My voice wavered, broke. I couldn't say anything else.

"It's not fair," Benny whispered. His voice rose, louder and louder. "It's not fair, it's not fair,_ it's not fair!_"

He spun around and ran. His sneakers pounded down the hall, on the stairs.

"Benny!" I yelled.

_"It's not fair! It's not fair! It's not fair!"_

Ben!_"_

_"It's not fair! It's not fair! It's not fair!"_

I sprinted after him. He was at the top of the stairs. Not caring whether Andrea noticed or not, I webslung to the landing just in time to see the door of his room slam shut with a violent crash. I banged on it.

"Open the door!"

I heard the lock click.

_"Open the door, Benny!" _

"Go away!" Benny screamed from inside. I froze, my hand drawn back to pound again.

"Go away and leave me alone! Leave me alone! _Leave me alone!_"

I stared at the door. I backed away until I felt the wall behind my shoulders. I slid down to the floor.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry and scream and rage like a miserable baby. I wanted to break something, ruin something, smash it to tiny pieces. But I could only sit there and stare at the door, blankly at the door to the silent room.

The phone rang. I didn't move.

It rang again, again, again. No one picked it up. It rang, on and on. I climbed to my feet and walked robotically down the hall, to my parents' room. I went to the bedside table and lifted the receiver from the phone. I said nothing, listened.

It was Harry. He told me, his voice strained and heavy with fatigue, that Nacht was gone. He asked me what had happened. Where was Spider-Man?

I put down the receiver numbly.

I went back downstairs. The TV was still on, flickering without an audience. I turned it off. I could hear Andrea somewhere in the living room. I reached over and switched off the lamp, throwing the room into darkness. I sat down on the couch and listened to the clock chime the hours.

I couldn't move. I couldn't even cry.


	13. Chapter Twelve: All True

Chapter Twelve

It is a warm night, one that I should be enjoying, but I do not have time. I have a job to do. A duty to perform.This night is different, very different. A voice sounds in my head. It is loud, overpowering.

_Go. Now._

I swing. The bright lights run together. It is hazy, almost foggy. The world is blurry around the edges, colors sliding into each other as if I am swinging through a strange prism. It is quiet, soundless. Another, different voice speaks inside me, groggy and disoriented.

_Where am I going? _

Manhattan Island. I swing, turn, leap, spin, spiral. I am Spider-Girl. I can find my way anywhere, but it is almost as if I do not know where I am going, as if something else is directing me.

_Why am I swinging? Am I dreaming? Where am I?_

I am hearing another voice now, confused, distracting. I must ignore it if I am to complete my task.

_Turn. Follow the street_, says the deep voice.

The lights dim and vanish. I am swinging north, due north. I am among empty streets and dirty buildings with broken windows. I do not know where I am going, only that I must go there. It takes only minutes.

_Harlem. I'm dreaming. I've got to be dreaming. Why am I in Harlem? I should be at home!_

I know this area; I have been here before, high above these streets.

_You are close to your destination_, the first voice thunders.

I land on a wall, greasy with spray paint and crude words. The building is tall, square, with brick walls and a sharply peaked roof and shattered windows. I climb through the space, inside into shadows and rotting rafters.

_What about Dad? Mom? Has Mom called? What about Dad? Will he be all right? Benny! What about Benny?_

The darkness is absolute, yet I can see well. My vision is more than good, it is excellent. I can see clearly, and my ears detect the smallest sound. A cough. I drop from the rafter to the floor.

_Wake up, Mayday. It's got to be a dream. Wake up._

_Other thoughts are meaningless. Obey me. Approach._

The cough again. I crouch, prowl closer to the source of the sound, now a voice.

"_Gegrüsset seist du M-Maria, voll d-der Gnade. Der Herr ist m-mit Dir..._"

The voice dissolves into more deep, retching coughs. It returns weakly, in a stammer.

"_Du bist g-gebenedeit unter den F-Frauen und g-gebenedeit ist die Frucht Deines L-Leibes Jesu. Heilige Maria, Mutter G-Gottes..._"

_Closer. Make no sound._

The other voice says, _German. That voice. Nacht? Is that Nacht? Wake up, Mayday. Wake up, now!_

Adrenaline rises in my blood. I do not know what I am to do, but something else does. The thing that is directing me will tell me what to do. I creep down the aisle, come to a halt and crouch. I see the source of the voice. It is a figure, curled, laying in a corner of the single large room. It mutters, clutching a string of beads. It coughs again and shudders violently.

"_...bitte für uns S-Sünder j-jetzt und in d-der Stunde unseres T-Todes. Amen_." A pause. The figure shifts the beads, singles out another. "_G-Gegrüsset seist du Maria, v-voll der Gnade. Der H-Herr ist mit Dir._.."

The figure does not see me. I feel myself rise, begin to step forward, silently.

_What am I doing? What am I doing_?

_Closer. _

His back is to me. He does not see me, though I am less than two feet away. The floor does not creak under me.

The figure shifts. I stiffen. It pulls itself into a sitting position against the wall. It has yellow eyes, dim and shiny with fever. They do not see me.

I have seen this strange face before. It has a name, I am sure of it. I try to remember as I wait for another command. It is a strange, long name. Na...Nacht...Nachtgleiskette...Nightcrawler...

_So, Spider-Girl. Do you believe that you and Spider-Man only escaped me with a few wounds? Do you think that my eyes cannot find you, that your will can defeat mine?_ _Do you see now that I control you as completely as a puppet on a string?_

The figure on the ground shivers. His eyes are closed tightly, his brow furrowed with anguish.

_Foolish little girl, my judgment is absolute. I commanded that Kurt Wagner would die, as an example of my power and my punishment for your resistance. You thought you could thwart me and save him_. _A false assumption._

My head swims. I begin to tremble. Blood roars in my ears.

_By interfering with me and trying to subvert my designs, you have angered me. And you will pay the penalty._

I can't...I can't...think...Nacht...what is Nacht doing here...?

The world is blurry, dreamlike. I don't want to be here; why am I here? Why did I come? Nacht...Nacht is in front of me...why? Why isn't he with Doc?

_Spider-Girl._

I've heard that voice before...it's in my head...who...?

_Kill him_.

What?

_Kill him. _

I am shaking. I'm starting to walk forward...

_No!_

I stop. It's my own voice now, silent inside my mind, but getting stronger, angrier.

_Anubis! It's Anubis! It's Anubis!_

_What are you waiting for?_ The echoing voice contains the hint of a snarl. _Kill him. I order you to kill him!_

My hands are out in front of me, reaching. I wrench myself back, my fingers curling into claws...

_No! I can't! I can't do it! I won't!_

_Kill him, Spider-Girl. I order you. I control you. Kill him._

I can't breathe. I'm being strangled. I'm trying to walk forward, yanking myself back. There is a horrible pain in my head, as if someone is pounding nails into my skull. I have to ignore the voice. I have to ignore the pain. Don't listen to the voice. Don't listen.

_Kill him._

_I will not do it._

_Kill him, Spider-Girl!_

_I will not do it!_

_KILL HIM!_

_I WILL NOT..._

I lurched backward, stumbled, felt my back slam against the opposite wall. The dreamlike state was gone. Everything was thrown into sharp relief, shadow against dim illumination. A wide room, with long benches that were overturned and dusty. Splinters snagged at the soles of my feet. What might have once been a type of podium or pulpit was crumbling into dust. A wall that had tumbled down long ago left broken chunks of wood and rotting sheetrock strewn across the floor. This place had been abandoned for years, decades. The pale, sickly artificial light of a nearby building drained through a ragged hole in the rafters and dripped through the cracks.

The remnants of an awful pain and my own horror made the room spin dizzyingly. What had I almost done? _What had I almost done?_

My knees shook and I pressed my hands against the water-stained wall to steady myself. I wanted to throw up. Anubis. He had brought me here, like a mindless doll, and almost forced me to...my eyes fixed on the figure in front of me.

"Kurt Wagner," I blurted.

A cloud of dust rose as Nacht scrambled to his feet, sick and sweating, his tail thrashing madly behind him. His eyes were huge. "Spider-Girl..." He coughed dryly.

"That's your name, isn't it?" I asked. "Kurt Wagner?"

Nacht stared at me, desperation seeping over his face. "How...how you know?" he gasped. "I never told! Never told you!"

"Anubis," I murmured. "He called you that. He called you Kurt Wagner."

"_Not Kurt Wagner!_" Nacht yelled, his voice breaking. "No more! Never again! Never a-"

His voice cracked into deep, rattling coughs. He tripped and fell against the wall, back into the corner. I vaulted over a pew and hurried toward him. Still coughing, gasping for breath, he made a motion as if to push me away.

"I'm getting you back to Doc whether you like it or not. Now-"

"_Nein,_" Nacht hissed. "Not going. I...no. Not going."

Suddenly my frustration boiled over. I couldn't help my father, but I could help him. I could take him to safety. And what was he doing? I knelt down and grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Listen," I snapped. "You're coming with me back to Doc. I'm not going to let you stay here while you make yourself worse. You almost died tonight, you know that?"

"Why you save?" Nacht whispered.

"What?"

"You say I almost die," he said. "Why save?"

I stared at him. "What do you mean, 'why save'? Did you think we were just going to let you die?"

Nacht turned his face to the wall.

I shook him slightly. He closed his eyes. "Nachtgleiskette. Kurt Wagner! Kurt, look at me!" I shook him again. He turned his head slowly, regarding me with hooded eyes.

"Don't say that. Don't ever say that you want to die. It's never that bad, Nacht."

"Is," Nacht murmured. "You don't know, Spider-Girl. You...happy. Have something. _Mutter, Vater, Bruder, Freund_. Don't have..." One hand came up, tapped his temple. "Don't see...what I see..."

"Anubis," I said, struck with a sudden thought. "Did Anubis put something in your head? Pictures, scenes?"

"_Geh weg_, Spider-Girl," Nacht whispered, his voice uneven. He coughed again. "_Bitte_. Go away, Spider-Girl. Please." I saw his shadowed eyes wander from my mask, fix on a space over my shoulder. I turned my head to follow his gaze. I saw that he was looking into empty space, through the gap in the rafters. A chill ran through me.

"Nacht, look at me. I'm talking to you. Look at me!" I yelled. "It's never that bad. Never!" I tightened my grip. He stared at me blankly. "It's never that hopeless. This is just one bad time. It'll be over. Nothing lasts forever." Another thought came to me. Nacht was religious. Maybe that would convince him. I'd say anything, just to keep him from...

"Don't suicides go to hell? It's not worth it, is it? Nacht!"

"Already in hell," Nacht whispered. He struggled weakly, trying to escape my grip, but I didn't loosen my hold.

"_This is not hell!_" I shouted. "This is not hell! It'll-"

Nacht twisted violently, and I found myself holding a few shreds of collar. He stumbled to his feet, panting, his eyes wild.

"What you know?" His voice became harsh. "What you know about me, Spider-Girl? You want know something now? What Anubis say?" He swayed on his feet.

"Everything he say! Want to know, Spider-Girl?" Nacht shouted. "All true! Everything he say! You understand me? _All true!_"

Nacht sagged and fell heavily onto one of the rotting pews. He leaned forward, his head in his hands.

"What's all true?" I asked softly.

"_Nein_," Nacht moaned. "_Nein, nein, nein..._"

I got up and walked over to the pew. Stepping over the broken remains of the one in front of it, I sat down next to him. I couldn't leave him now; there was no telling what he might do.

"Please go away, Spider-Girl," he said. "_Bitte_...go away."

"No," I said. "Not unless you let me take you back to Doc."

"I...t-teleport," he said. "Hide. No one find me."

"Then," I said, "I will tear this city apart until I do."

"Why?" he asked. "Why you follow me? You not know me. If you knew me, not follow me."

A slight breeze drifted through the abandoned chapel.

"What happened to you?" I asked.

Nacht shook his head.

I sighed, "All right."

I saw him glance at me out of the corner of his eye, but I didn't make any attempt to move. Either he would go back to Doc or we would just stay here, because I wasn't leaving without him.

The moments passed in silence. The apprehension was returning. Had I just walked out of the house? How long had it been since I left? How was Dad? What would Benny think if he found me gone? What if-

"Kurt Wagner," Nacht said. His voice was almost inaudible. "Is me. My name. Kurt Wagner."

"Kurt Wagner," I repeated, trying it out.

"My father was baron. Eric Wagner. From Bavaria."

"Was he..." I caught myself before I finished the sentence. "Um..."

The corner of Nacht's mouth twitched in a faint, rueful smile. "Was he human, _meinst du?_"

I closed my mouth. Nacht looked down at his hands.

"_Ja_, was human.. But mother...not know who mother is. Not know what_ I_ am."

"Then..."

"I...I found," he said. "I..." Another flurry of coughs broke his voice. "When...when I very small. Baby. Father dead, and mother gone. I...abandoned. Guess she not want me. Hard to blame her,_ oder_?

"I found...by_ Roma_. _Roma_ are..." Nacht's brow furrowed. "_Roma_...they travel. All over. Do shows, circus. Sometimes sell things. Always move, never stay long in one place...gypsies," he said finally. "They find me. Keep me. My _Mutti..._raise me. Her name Margali Szardos. She was with circus."

He took in a long, shuddering breath. "Raise me like own son, with other children. She my mother. They my...sib...siblings. Jermaine...and...and my older brother. Stephan. Brother and best friend.

"No one in circus treat me like _Ungewöhnlich_. I grow up with them. Never treat me different. I just another boy. Even in show...no one watching know I different. Think I wearing costume.

"We went all over _Deutschland_. Ah...most beautiful place...Germany. The country...you go out in morning, and in valley there is...mist. Far from city and streets and cars. No sounds but little birds. Sometimes...you hear noise of river, if you near one. Sky is gray, but gets light and light in one spot, over mountain. Just sit and watch it all, sky, mist...and it gets warm and bright. People wake up, get ready to move again. We never stop moving. You hear them talk, but so far away...noise of fire, maybe. Then little wind blows mist away, and sun rises over mountain, and all birds flying and singing...and it new day, all over again..."

He didn't speak again for a long time.

"Then everything change. One year ago.

"Circus was sold. Sold to man from here. America. At first we think not so bad, not change much. But then..."

Nacht's voice hardened. "I'm acrobat. I'm performer, _good _performer. But new owner...not interested. He want..." His face tightened with anger, and as he spoke, I saw that his pointed teeth were clenched.

"He want to put me on display. In sideshow. Like deformed one. Like _freak,_" he spat.

"So I leave. _Mutti_, she agree, too. Not want to see me displayed like monster. _Mein Bruder_...Stephan, he already left. Find his own way. I try find my own way, too.

Nacht shivered. "I go, leave circus. The people I see, in the little towns, they afraid of me. Think that I am _ein Teufel_, a devil. I pretend I wearing costume, very real costume, and I'm performer. Then they not so much afraid.

"I follow my brother. He staying in small, small town, high in mountains. I think to go there, to find Stephan. I get there one night, look for him..."

Nacht paused, and I realized that tears were welling in his eyes.

I was helpless. What could I say?

"_Die Kinder_..._warum hast du es getan, warum hast du es getan?_"

"What happened, Nacht?" I asked quietly.

"No, no, no...Stephan...he...gone mad, and he...he k-"

An awful noise of misery escaped him. "I find him...see what he done...and then he see me...he see me. Say I one of them, not his brother. He wild, looked insane, like madman...then he come at me.

"I jump out of the way. He's not Stephan anymore. Comes after me. Gets in my way. I try to grab him, hold him down, but miss...and then he charge me again. I...I swing back arm and...and hit him hard..."

Tears coursed down his face. "I didn't mean to. I swear to _Gott_, not mean to. I wanted stop him. Never wanted to...to...

"Stephan...he falls. Doesn't move. I run to him. Think I hit him unconscious. But then I see...oh_ Gott_...I see..."

"Nacht, what-"

"You not understand, Spider-Girl? You not see what I done?" Nacht whirled on me, his face contorted with agony. His words erupted from him in a scream.

"_I killed my own brother!_"

Nacht voice dissolved. He leaned forward, put his face in his hands, and began to sob.

"Running...always running..._Herr Gott_...forgive me..."

Memories of the whole, horrible night drenched me, as if misery seeped from the air like water. Nacht's sobs echoed around the small chapel in a thousand cries. I felt my own tears finally begin to come to my eyes.

I forced them away.

Spider-Girl was strong. The protector, the crimefighter, the dragon slayer. Tears belonged to Mayday Parker. Spider-Girl did not cry. Spider-Girl would never be able to cry. And now I had to be strong for someone else, for my friends, my family, millions of others. I had to leave Mayday behind, _be_ Spider-Girl.

So I took my friend by the hand, and let him weep for the both of us.


	14. Chapter Thirteen: Leonard Shire

Chapter Thirteen

THREE DAYS LATER

At nine forty-five in the morning I was hunched over a mug of instant coffee, my head pounding and the sunlight burning my eyes. Benny was in his room and Andrea was watching _Maury_ in the den, and the constant yelling from the television wasn't helping my headache. And I was so tired…

The ringing of the phone blasted against my eardrums. I dragged myself out of the kitchen chair and stumbled to the phone. "H'lo?"

"Mayday," said the voice on the line, "_go to sleep._"

The last thing I was in the mood for was this. "I'm hanging up, Harry."

"This is the worst possible thing you could do. What are you going to do if something happens? Go out as Spider-Girl the way you are now?"

"Don't you get it?" I almost yelled. Making sure Andrea was still in the den, I lowered my voice and hissed, "_I almost killed someone!_"

"And you're going to get _yourself _killed if you don't get some rest. Did you ever think about that?"

"For the last time, I'm _fine_," I growled.

"Yeah? What's three times four?"

"Shut up."

"What's the capital of New York?"

"Who cares."

"What's your dad's middle name?"

"Will you…he doesn't _have_ a middle name!"

"Where are we supposed to be meeting Doc in approximately forty minutes?"

I stopped in mid-snarl. "What?"

"Yeah, we're meeting Doc." Harry lowered his voice. "At Columbia University. He says it's important."

"What is it?"

"I don't know," Harry said. "But, you know, you're probably not up to going out—"

"Oh, knock it off," I sighed, and pinched the bridge of my nose. "But I'm taking the bus."

I got off at the stop on 120th Street, looking like I'd run through a field of sprinklers and feeling completely revolting. There was nothing like summer in New York, especially with two layers of clothing.

I walked down the sidewalk, fuzzily which building I was supposed to go to, but as I got closer it became obvious. There was a crowd gathering in front of University Hall, and streams of people were already funneling through the doors.

I joined the crowd and followed it inside. The doors to the big lecture hall were open and I could see people taking their seats inside, but I didn't go in. I found a bench, leaned back against the wall, and closed my eyes.

"Excuse me, miss," said a voice from in front of me. "Is this where they're holding the _Day of the Dead_ auditions?"

I opened my eyes and threw my purse at him. "Shut _up_!"

Harry caught the purse. "Okay, apparently humor doesn't always make people feel better."

I groaned. "Just what is this all about?"

Harry handed my purse back to me. "I just know what Doc told me. There's some scientist giving a lecture here today. He's an expert on tropical medicine and stuff like that. Dr. Leonard Shire." He shrugged. "Doc said there would be something we should hear."

We found seats near the back of the lecture hall and waited. I tried to keep my eyes open. Harry was right. If Anubis or Ladyhawk had decided to pounce, I was about as useful as a catatonic.

After a while the scientist, Dr. Shire, came out onto the stage. He was tall and thin, with a full head of feathery white hair and a thick London accent, and seemed disgustingly enthusiastic. I watched the PowerPoint slide show behind him dully. I wasn't that familiar with botany, and aside from a few radicals and chemical equations I didn't understand anything. I glanced over at Harry. He was staring at the projections, looking completely blank.

I slid down in my seat as the lecture continued, thinking that people who had exuberant personalities should be more considerate of those who didn't. Shire's words melted into a comforting drone, and I didn't bother trying to make it out. I was just…so…tired…

"Mayday. Mayday, wake up."

I opened my eyes a crack. From very close by, Harry said, "Um…it's over."

My eyes shot open and I jerked upright, feeling my face flame read. I'd fallen asleep. Not only that, I'd fallen asleep with my head resting on Harry's shoulder.

I stared at my shoes, hoping no one would notice how my face was burning. The audience was starting to stream back out into the lobby. I stood up, trying to look everywhere but at Harry.

"Look," he said suddenly. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him nod at the other end of the room. "There's Doc."

Doc was going out into the lobby with the rest of the crowd. We edged out and headed after him, and after a few seconds I saw him near the door, talking with Dr. Shire. But as we got closer he looked over Doc's shoulder and suddenly called, "Curt Connors! Is that you, old man?"

A man near the front of the crowd turned, and as he did, I saw that where his right arm should have been was only an empty sleeve. Shire went straight for him like a shark and seized his single hand in a hearty handshake. "Curt Connors! I haven't seen you since the Biochemistry Convention!"

Dr. Connors looked ill. "Oh. Hello, Leonard. It's been a while." He looked past him, at Doc. "Hi, Rob."

Shire looked between them. "Oh, imagine that! I didn't know you two knew each other."

"I should," Dr. Connors said dryly, "as he was one of my graduate students not too long ago."

Shire cleared his throat uncomfortably, looking unnerved at Dr. Connors' aloofness. He opened his mouth, but Dr. Connors cut him off. "Well, it's, uh…great to see you again. You too, Rob. Sorry, but I've got to get going. I've got a plane to Florida leaving in two hours."

Shire chuckled. "Not still chasing your reptiles, are you, Curt?"

Dr. Connors turned and fixed Shire with a very cold look. "Thankfully, no. I'm going to Miami with my wife."

He nodded to Doc, then walked away and disappeared into the crowd.

Shire looked after him and whistled. "A bit shirty today, isn't he?"

Doc raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"Eh? Oh. Bad-tempered, I mean." He shook his head. "Been feeling that way myself, actually. Ever since old Reynolds copped it I've been in charge of the traveling slide show, and being enthusiastic all the time takes its toll." He cleared his throat again. "Now, what was it you wanted to see me about?"

"Oh. Yes," Doc said, and at the same time I saw him glance over Shire's shoulder at us. He took a sheet of paper from the folder under his arm and handed it to Shire. From where I was I could make out an empirical formula and a model of a complex molecule.

Shire's eyebrows shot up. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly. When he spoke, his voice was almost a croak.

"Robert," he said, "where in God's name did you find this?"

"You recognize it?" Doc said.

"Of course," Shire murmured. He lifted his glasses and held the paper up to his face. "Yes, that's definitely it."

He lowered the paper and slid his glasses back onto his nose. "Are you familiar with the work of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Rob?"

Doc frowned. "Not particularly."

"It's just because this is..." Shire trailed off. He shook his head as if dismissing a thought, then held up the paper. "This," he said, "is _radix pedis diaboli._ It's a plant found along the upper Nile. Doyle used it as a basis for one of his mysteries, and I thought you might have…" He shook his head again. "Never mind. _Diaboli _isn't entirely unknown to science, but it's quite difficult to find in its natural state. The native groups of the area use it in a powdered form to induce hallucinations for religious rituals. It isn't usually dangerous when inhaled, but anything more than a few milliliters in its liquid state can kill." He grimaced. "It's a hideous way to go, I've heard. Paralysis, convulsions—"

"Vivid hallucinations?"

Shire blinked. "Well, yes, I assume so, as it's a neurotoxin. I've never actually witnessed its effects. That's more the job of the anthropology department than mine."

Doc reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and took out a small clear plastic bag. He held it up. "What if it's injected?"

Shire took the bag and squinted down at it. "What is this?"

"A dart," Doc said. "Tipped with the chemical."

I could see the muscles in Shire's throat working as he swallowed. "You mean…someone is using this as a poison? Deliberately?"

"It certainly seems that way."

"Well, man, haven't you gone to the police?" Shire nearly shouted. Heads turned in the crowd. Shire lowered his voice and muttered intensely, "If someone's attacking people with this…"

"He already has," Doc said. "Three days ago. It's a miracle the victim survived."

Shire stared at him. "He…he _survived_? How?"

"Epinephrine. Straight into the cardiac muscles."

"Amazing," Shire murmured. "Amazing."

Someone cleared her throat behind them. Both Doc and Shire turned, and as they did I saw a woman in a business suit standing behind them, looking impatient.

"Dr. Shire," she said, tapping her watch. "Your lecture at New York University…"

Shire rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, thank you."

The woman sniffed and stalked away. Shire turned back to Doc. "I'm heading back home tomorrow evening, and I've some contacts who know more about this particular plant than I do. I'll be in touch."

"Thanks," Doc said, and I could tell that the conversation was over.

Harry and I followed the crowd back out onto the steps. I saw a Starbucks café on the corner and headed for it. Harry jogged to catch up with me. "So. That's how Anubis kills you," he muttered. "If he doesn't make you walk yourself off a cliff."

"But how does that help us?" I said.

Harry shook his head and said nothing.

The Starbucks was crowded, and it was impossible for us to talk with so many people around. I was glad. I waited in line until the guy at the counter turned to me and sighed, "What'll it be?"

"Frappucino. The strongest one you've got."

The guy snorted, took a bottled Frappucino from beneath the counter, and was just reading me the price when a scream split the air.

My spider-sense shrilled to life. Harry spun. "What the—"

I followed his gaze, adrenaline surging through my veins. Through the front window of the café I saw people on the street pointing up into the sky. A huge shadow sped over them and vanished.

A shadow with wings.

I grabbed the Frappucino and threw a five-dollar bill on the counter. "Keep the change!"

We shoved through the line at the counter and ran out into the street. I squinted into the sunlight. A dark blot was soaring east over Morningside Park. Ladyhawk.

"Well, what do you know," Harry said. He turned to me and raised an eyebrow. "Where do you think she's going?"

"One way to find out," I sighed.

"Exactly," Harry said. He grinned and jerked his head towards the retreating shape. "Come on, let's go."

"Wait! Wait!"

I twisted off the cap of the Frappucino, downed it, and tossed the empty bottle into the trash can. "All right," I said. "_Now _let's go."


	15. Chapter Fourteen: The Lighthouse

Chapter Fourteen

        A few moments later I was crouching on a rooftop ledge in my costume, the familiar rush of adrenaline dissolving my weariness, at least for now. Ladyhawk was only a black speck under the thick, spongy summer clouds. Harry drifted up to my level, arms crossed. The snarling helmet turned towards me and I suppressed an involuntary shudder. 

        _I'm never going to get used to that_, I thought. I nodded. Harry's goblin helmet twitched slightly in agreement. 

        "We just have to keep out of her field of vision," he said. 

        I leaped from the roof, fired and swung. There was a low hum as Harry kicked the glider into the air. The noise faded abruptly as Harry shot over my head, flying in perfect silence ahead of me. The ground advanced and retreated as I careened back into the sky, where puffy, heavy clouds were building in the dead July heat. There was no breeze.

        The blur that was Ladyhawk flapped on, over the East River, over Queens. I landed on the bridge and began to sprint along the long suspension cable. A few cries of surprise and the sounds of car doors opening drifted from below, but I ignored them. You'd think they'd be used to things like this by now.

        Ladyhawk never turned, not even to look back. I dropped from the bridge and onto the roof of a small business. The buildings in Queens weren't tall enough for webswinging, and the only way I could keep up was by bounding from roof to roof. My own house passed in a blink below me. The driveway was still empty.    

        It was when we left Queens that I began to worry.

        Ladyhawk veered almost imperceptibly to the north as we entered Nassau, where nothing but suburbs stretched before us. I skidded to a stop on the edge of a roof and shot a webline at the wing of Harry's glider. I grabbed the end and pulled hard, flipping forward to land directly behind him on the glider.

        Harry jerked in surprise. "What the..."

        "Mind if I hitch a ride?" I asked. 

        "No problem." 

        Ladyhawk turned again, now flying due northeast. The houses and buildings below thinned, and more trees grew along the streets and the highway. I looked over my shoulder and could barely make out the small gray smudge of Manhattan Island behind us.

        _Where is she going?_ I thought. Harry muttered my question aloud. 

        We were squarely on Long Island, far away from any skyscrapers, and miles from any city I knew. Little towns and suburbs passed below the glider; a brief flash of rooftops and they were gone. The clouds were heavier here, duskier. We had been flying for only an hour or so, but already I missed the towering walls of Manhattan. It was huge, bright, crowded, noisy, and protected. You were just one face out of millions in the city. Seen once and instantly forgotten. And somehow, among the steel and glass and crowds, you were safe.

        Here, the skyline was open and empty. The buildings and houses were squat and square, and tall, spindly pine trees jutted from the ground, far apart. The glider was tiny, flying silently in the space, obvious, unsheltered, exposed.

        _You're just out of your element_, I thought to myself. Manhattan was my element. Not the place that we flew over now, a small town with a white sign along the highway that read, in fancy cursive, "Welcome to Oyster Bay".

        "Bay"?

        A huge expanse of water spread across the horizon, deep blue and as placid as a painting. Fractured sunlight gleamed on the waves of Long Island Sound, on fishing boats and jet skis and a single oil tanker chugging west towards the distant harbor. I saw pelicans as we flew over Oyster Bay's marina, seagulls and other birds that I didn't know. A cool, salty breeze blew from the sound.

        Had it been any other time, I would have loved to explore this little town, as Mayday, not Spider-Girl, where it was so quiet and calm that even the pelicans flapped lazily over the water. But now, the sight of this small, peaceful town only made me shiver at how far we were from home.

        Ladyhawk changed direction again, flying along the rocky coast. Oyster Bay faded out of sight behind us as Harry swooped after her. There were suddenly more suburbs and marinas, docks, restaurants, but they flickered away as quickly as they had appeared. It was overcast here, with dense, ponderous clouds. The beach houses disappeared, and miles and miles of pine trees.

        My unease grew with the silence. This was too far. We had to be halfway across Long Island by now. Could Ladyhawk know that we were following her? Was she leading us into a trap?

        The sky grew darker. We flew over another tiny town on the sound whose signs announced it to be Wading River, New York. As we passed it, Ladyhawk, nearly half a mile ahead of us, stopped.

        "Look out!"

        Harry sent the glider into a drop, narrowly missing the branches of a tree. I narrowed my eyes, squinting through the pine needles, struggling to see in the eerie gloom.

        A stone lighthouse stood alone on the rocky coast. I could see an empty white-graveled driveway with a swinging fence that was held shut by a rusty chain. A weathered sign read, "PRIVATE. NO TRESPASSING." Someone had nailed boards over the door and lower windows of the adjacent house, and the glass windows where the searchlight had once shone were shattered.

        The figure of Ladyhawk fluttered down to the roof, folding her wings. She took a step to the left and disappeared into the lighthouse.

        "Is that where she lives?" I wondered. Harry shrugged slightly. The glider rose from the stand of trees, floating silently towards the darkened lighthouse. A small light flickered inside. 

        Harry's glider drifted over the sloping conical roof and settled quietly onto the tiles. I stepped off. There was a skylight on the roof, devoid of glass, where dim yellow light glowed. I motioned to Harry. "Look."

        Crouching at the edge of the empty square, I peered down. The light was coming from a small table lamp without a shade. The room below was circular, built around a huge dead searchlight whose cables were frayed and torn. There was a strange collection of items tossed haphazardly on the wooden floor: a few books, pencils, blankets, boxes. A large textbook rested on an upturned wooden crate beside the lamp. I could see complex mathematical equations and lists of problems and graphs. A full-length, broken mirror leaned against the wall, covered in thick dust.

        "She does live here," Harry muttered. 

        My spider-sense barely warned me in time. "Get down!"

        Ladyhawk appeared from a small door in the wall. I caught a glimpse of a spiral staircase as she shut it quickly behind her. Without looking up she walked across the small room, sighed, and pulled off her birdlike mask.

        Her hair was the same color as her wings, strangely mottled and feathery. Her features were pointed, and her hawk eyes seemed huge in her face. I was sure that she wasn't much older than myself or Harry, nineteen at the most. Without once glancing up, she sat down on another crate and picked up the textbook, paging through it carefully with her talons.

        Harry tapped me on the shoulder. "I think you should stay here."

        "What? What are you going to do?"

        "She seems to have more of a grudge against you, particularly," Harry whispered. "So I'll try first. Whatever happens, stay here."

        Before I could say another word, Harry stood up and dropped straight down through the skylight, landing with his knees slightly bent on the floor below.

        Ladyhawk sprang from the crate like a tiger, her eyes stretched wide, her black claws curled in front of her. "What are you doing here? Get out!"

        Harry held up his hands, palms up. "I'm not here to fight."

        "_Get out!" Ladyhawk screeched. She lashed at him with one hand. I saw sparks fly as her claws glanced harmlessly off his armor. Harry rocked backwards from the force of her blow._

        "Stop," Harry said, with amazing calm, holding his hands up again. "I'm not here to fight you. Just listen to what I have to say."

        "I don't care what you have to say!" Ladyhawk snarled. "Don't lie to me. I know you're an ally of Spider-Girl's. Get out. Get out of here or I'll kill you!"

        "I wouldn't advise that," Harry said. He was a better actor than I ever could be. He lowered his hands. "I'm not here to fight you. I want to talk about Central Park."

        "Criminal!" Ladyhawk spat. "I know who you are. You're Hobgoblin. You're a terrorist. I've heard all about you. Get out._ Get out!_" Ladyhawk lunged at Harry. He dodged out of the way.

        "HAF zero one!" he yelled.

        Ladyhawk stopped, her back to him. I held my breath. I didn't care what Harry said, if she tried something like that again I'd been down there in an instant.

        "What?" Ladyhawk hissed.

        "HAF zero one," Harry repeated. His voice was beginning to sound strained. "That's what Anubis called you in Central Park. HAF zero one."

        Ladyhawk stared at him wordlessly, her eyes huge with anger...and fear. "I don't know what you're talking about."

        "Yes, you do," Harry said. "I'm not here to fight. I'm trying to talk to you. You saw what happened that night. You know what Anubis can do. Eight million people could be in danger. More than eight million. Spider-Girl can't take him on alone. Neither of us can."

        "So you admit it," Ladyhawk said. "You work with Spider-Girl."

        "Yes, I do," Harry said. "And I'm asking you what he showed you. Anubis."

        "Why?" Ladyhawk snapped. "What do you care? Ask your friend Spider-Girl."

        "He uses a person's own fear against them!" Harry continued. "That's not all he can do. He can control minds. He made May-...he can make someone hurt someone else without them being able to stop themselves. If any of us meets him again, we're all vulnerable. If we can figure out some way to combat that, then-"

        "I don't need any help from _you," Ladyhawk sneered._

        "If Spider-Girl hadn't saved you, you'd have been dead on the pavement last month," Harry said. "HAF zero one."

        "_Don't you call me that!" Ladyhawk crouched, wings spread, claws stretched wide. "Don't you ever call me that!" she shrieked._

        "Who are you?"

        "Shut up."

        "Why are you here?"

        "Shut up!"

        "_I'm not your enemy!" Harry shouted. His voice echoed through the lighthouse. "I'm just trying to-"_

        "To interrogate me? I don't need your help. I don't need anyone. I never have. I'd like to see _you manage the way I have. What do you know about anything? I'm sure _you_ never had to survive in a blasted desert with men with guns on your tail every minute shooting at anything that moves. I'm sure __you never..." Ladyhawk's voice rose, higher and higher, her face contorting with misery as she screamed, "I'm sure __you never listened to the people you trusted say, '__Homo avis female zero one is a failure, and our resources are running low. Terminate it immediately. __Terminate it immediately'!"_

        My breath caught in my throat. I was trembling. Who was she? Who was Ladyhawk?

        "Who said that?" Harry asked softly. "Who were they?"

        "The d-doctors," Ladyhawk stammered. The rage was gone, melted away. "Dr. Stromm. Dr. Jiang. Dr. Korovin. At the Institute."

        "What institute?" Harry's voice shook. "What was it called? Who owned it?"

        Ladyhawk didn't answer. She stared at him for a moment with hooded eyes. Then, she slowly turned towards the mirror leaning against the wall. With one claw, she traced a name in the dust.

        O-S-C-O-R-P.


	16. Chapter Fifteen: Demons

Chapter Fifteen

        It took me almost ten minutes to catch up with Harry after he had taken off from the lighthouse.

        I landed beside him, panting and covered with dry, stabbing pine needles. The roof was ornate and old-fashioned, topped by a gable flying the American and New York State flags. Wading River City Hall was small, but with a large, empty observation deck that faced the waters of the Sound. A little sailboat skimmed towards the shore.

        Harry tore off his helmet and flung it. It crashed against the gable and fell to the floor of the observation deck, staring blankly with its yellow eyes. It appeared to be grinning.

        I had to speak. "Harry-"

        "Don't say anything, okay? Just _don't!" he yelled._

        I didn't. Harry gripped the roots of his hair, staring out to sea. The clouds ended in an abrupt line over the water, leaving a strip of empty sky between the grayness and the ocean. Late afternoon sunlight turned the water a strange, rusty orange.

        "So not only was my father a madman, he was Dr. Moreau," Harry said bitterly. He sat down heavily on the edge of the roof. Not knowing what else to do, I sat down next to him. I pulled off my own mask.

        OsCorp. This all lead back to OsCorp. The company that no longer existed, that had been bought by Quest Aerospace almost eight years ago. And its founder, owner, and chief executive officer had been Norman Osborn. Norman Osborn, the Green Goblin.

        "Maybe..." I began. "It wasn't your father that authorized the project that created Ladyhawk. When he was controlled by the Green Goblin-"

        "No!" Harry's voice rang piercingly loud. "No, no, no! You don't understand! You just don't get it, do you? How_ could _you understand?" He chuckled. It was a mirthless rasp.

        "He didn't have to give in. He shouldn't have given in. He was strong. He was stronger than I could ever be. He didn't have to give in!"

        "But the Goblin-"

        "You don't know what you're talking about!" Harry shouted. 

        I closed my mouth. Harry glared at the ocean as the sun sank lower in the sky, touching the water. There was nothing I could say. 

        When the sun was halfway below the Sound, Harry spoke again.

        "It's not the way you think it is." 

        I turned my head. Harry didn't look at me. He kept staring at the horizon as he spoke.

        "I was always there, when Hobgoblin was. I could see, I could hear, I could feel anything he felt. It was like being in a dream. Things were blurry around the edges, and it seemed far away. I could tell that things were happening, but I didn't care, because it was just so far away."

        He had never talked about this before. What could I say to what he was telling me?

        "And then I finally figured it out." His voice was so bitter it seemed that the words curdled in the air. "He talked to me. It scared the hell out of me at first. Hearing someone else, in your mind, using your own voice, telling you things you don't know. He told me..." Harry took a deep breath. "About what he was planning. About what he was going to do to...what he was going to do to Spider-Girl. He went on and on, hammering at me, every single minute. And then I...I gave in. 

        "No, I didn't just give in. I agreed. I _agreed!_"

        "Harry, _you are not Hobgoblin!" _

        "_I am!" Harry yelled. "He's me. __He is me!_

        "He's never gone. He's always been with me. I can feel it. I don't hear voices, I don't see things...but I can feel it. Like there's something trapped inside me. A monster. There's a part of me that's just _made_ of anger...and hate. It hates everything. It wants to come out and tear everything it sees to pieces."

        The sun set. A bird screamed in the distance.

        "And I hate _it." Harry's voice hissed like steam. "If I could just rip it out of me...I would...but I can't. _I can't!_ I can't because it's not just Hobgoblin, it's me! __Me!_

        "And it's not done. It'll keep growing. I know it will. That's how it goes. Eating, from the inside out. Just like it did to my...my father. 

        "But _he could have fought it. He was stronger than me, always stronger. He could have and he didn't. He let it grow, until he was nothing and all there was left was the Goblin."_

        Harry sat hunched, his face in his gloved hands. The strange, shifting patterns of his armor twisted and morphed in the fading light, as if something alive were enveloping him, absorbing him, black and shapeless.

        _He is me._

        I didn't understand. I didn't want to understand. It couldn't be true. Hobgoblin...Hobgoblin was destroyed. I had given Harry the antidote. It had dissolved Hobgoblin, obliterated him, freed Harry from his mind. __

_        Be strong, Mayday. You were always strong for Mom and Benny when they needed you. You were strong for Nacht. Be strong for Harry._

        I looked back out at Long Island Sound, and suddenly I wanted everything gone. All of it. I wanted to be able to go home and share boring stories about school and work over a dinner table. I wanted to be able to walk down a street without a spider-sense warning me about cars and bicycles. I didn't want my existence to be the reason my best friend had been tortured by a monster that had used him only to destroy me.

        Me. Spider-Girl.

        "Mayday," said Harry. That was all he said. The last light of the sun glowed on his face, and something in his eyes shone brightly, like tears. 

        "Mayday," he said again. "If what I say means anything anymore, please...believe me," he whispered. "Whatever happens to me, I can promise you, swear on everything I know...I will never hurt you."

        I blinked rapidly. What should I say? What _could_ I say? 

        I opened my mouth to speak when Harry turned away silently, his eyes shadowed, reflecting the darkening waters of the sea. He had always laughed so much. His gray eyes had always been sparkling at something, some hidden joke. Even after the winter, after Hobgoblin, after the rig, the laughter had returned. That was the only way to make it, I had once heard him mention, a long time ago. When things got bad, you needed to find something to laugh about. That was the one thing that would remind you that it wouldn't be bad forever. That was Harry Osborn. Some people called him the luckiest boy in the world. A billionaire at sixteen. They saw a boy who had lost his father, been abandoned by his mother, and raised by a struggling aunt. They saw him showered with fame, unlimited wealth. 

        They didn't see a teenager who had gone through what no one could ever deserve, what they could never imagine. They didn't see Harry Osborn, Harry, who, despite all, could still laugh.

        Harry, whose gray eyes were dark with pain.  

        I edged closer to Harry and put my arm around his shoulders in a half-hug, fumbling for something, anything to say. 

        "I believe you," I said. "I believe you. You're my best friend, and I'll always believe you."

        Harry turned his head, his eyes like clouded mirrors. "Best friend?" he asked softly.

        I suddenly realized how close his face was to mine, but I couldn't move. He must have noticed it too; why wasn't he moving away? He was much too close...why wasn't _I moving away? I could barely breathe. A very peculiar feeling was beginning inside me. Why wasn't I moving away? I couldn't... I was there, frozen, inches from Harry, but still much too close..._

        _What am I _doing?

        I pulled my arm away and snatched up my mask, yanking it down over my face to hide my burning embarrassment. I had lost my mind. That was it. I had completely lost my mind! I felt like crawling into a nice, convenient hole and never coming out again. What had I been _thinking? _

        _Mayday, you idiot, say something!_

         "So," I said, forcing my tone to become brusque and businesslike. It was much easier with a mask on. "Anubis must have used Ladyhawk's memories of an OsCorp lab to fuel his attack on her."

        "Yeah." Harry stood up slowly and walked over to the gable, picking up his helmet. "Yeah...that...that sounds plausible."

        "And...um...y-yeah..." I stuttered.

        "We'd better be getting back to the city," Harry said stiffly. 


	17. Chapter Sixteen: Home Invasion

Chapter Sixteen

When I swung onto my roof a little over an hour later, the first thing I noticed was that the driveway was still deserted. The streetlamps were all on, and it was swelteringly hot. Making sure that my room was empty from a distance, I hopped through my window and pulled on the clothes that I had picked up from the alley where I had changed. My room was pitch dark.

The phone rang. I stumbled down the stairs. Completely forgetting where I was, I shot a line of webbing at the cordless phone and snatched it from the table.

"Hello?"

"Mayday, it's me," said Mom's harassed voice from the other end. "I've been arguing all day and it's gotten us nowhere, so I'm coming home."

"Are you at the hospital? What happened?" I asked, frowning.

Another voice drowned out Mom's answer. "What the...how did _you_ get here?"

Andrea stood in the front hall, wearing a look of abject befuddlement. I waved at her, signaling the phone. She only stared at me. "But I was like, _just_ in the den, and you didn't come in that way..."

"Mayday? You there?"

"Huh? Oh, right Mom. What's going on?"

"The best hospital in Manhattan," Mom growled. "Appears to have misplaced your father's records."

"They _lost_ them?"

"There was some mysterious computer problem this morning, so they claim," Mom said, her irritation evident in her voice. "And his file has disappeared. They're also claiming that they can't release your dad until they find them. They won't even let me see him! I argued with some crazy doctor for ages; he sounded like Sven Bjornsen from work, Icelandic or something..._what?_"

I pulled the phone away and held it at arm's length as shouting erupted on the other line. "_Mom?_"

"I'm on a pay phone on the corner and some woman's screaming at me in Greek!"

"I thought you had the cell phone!"

"_It died!_" Mom yelled. I hadn't heard her sound so stressed for quite a while. "I went down to find someone else when I ran into your dad's doctor, who started _lecturing _me that I couldn't have expected my husband to recover from a gunshot wound so quickly and that.._.lady, I'm on the phone!_"

My head was starting to hurt. "Mom? Mom...Mom, are you still there? Mom!"

"...Then I told him about the records, and what the Icelandic intern said, and he tells me that there _is_ no Icelandic intern in that ward, and..._arrrrgh!_ I'll see you in about half an hour."

_Click._

"Whoa," I said, putting down the receiver. "Andrea, try not to annoy Mom when she gets home, all right?"

Andrea had already left. I sighed and headed back upstairs. Anubis, Kurt, Ladyhawk, Andrea, and now my dad kept prisoner in a hospital he didn't need...I felt like growling myself. And Harry...

I thought about something else. Ladyhawk...had she been born in an OsCorp lab? Born...or created? How had she gotten here? Had she been sent? Had she escaped? What did she want? How did...

Questions upon questions, all unanswered. I stepped back inside my room and shut the door behind me, relishing the silence. I collapsed on my bed and put a pillow over my face. The creeping exhaustion that had haunted me all week was returning in full force, drowning my worry and fear and humiliation. If only I could just let myself sleep, I wouldn't have to think about any of it. If only I could just let myself sleep...

I woke up feeling worse than before.

I sat up and blinked stupidly in the darkness. It was hot and stifling. I heard snuffling snores from the other side of the room and saw that Andrea was already asleep.

I scrubbed the back of my hand over my face. My skin felt clammy and my mouth was dry. I stood up and felt my way out of my room, into the darkened hall. The house was quiet and dark, and I saw that the door to my parents' bedroom was closed. Mom must have come home while I was asleep.

A strip of yellow light shone from underneath Benny's door. I frowned. It had to be after midnight by now; what was he doing up? I rapped my knuckles lightly on the door. "Benny?"

There was a long pause before I heard Benny's voice faintly through the door. "What?"

"You okay?" I tried the handle. It was locked.

There was another silence. "I'm fine," Benny said. His voice was flat.

I had never heard anyone sound less fine. I rattled the handle. "Open the door."

"Go away."

"Benny!"

"I said _go away_!"

I stepped away from the door, reached up, and pried the top bolt out of the hinges. I pulled out the lower one, flattened my hands against the door, and slid it out of the frame.

"Mayday! What are you _doing_?"

"What does it look like?" I grunted. I leaned the door against the wall.

Benny was sitting crosslegged on his bed. The lamp on his desk was on, and a pile of dusty comic books was scattered over the floor. The lamp enlarged his shadow, blotting out the newspaper clippings of Spider-Man and Spider-Girl that he had pasted on the wall behind his bed.

I crossed my arms. "What is wrong with you? Why are you even up?"

"It's only one-thirty," Benny said. I saw that there were no books, video games, or anything near his bed. The comic books on the floor looked as if they hadn't been touched in weeks.

"What are you doing?"

"None of your business. Leave me alone." Benny glowered at me. The spaces beneath his eyes were shadowy.

"Is this about Dad?"

"I said leave me alone!"

"Quit yelling before you wake someone up!" I hissed. "What is going on with you, Benny?"

"Don't you have enough to deal with already without bothering me too?" Benny sneered.

I stared at him. The lightbulb flickered for an instant and changed color; the filament was burning out. The room took on a strange, burnished hue.

"Fine," I said. "Do what you want. See if I care."

"Yeah, and fix my door on your way out," Benny said coldly.

I gritted my teeth, considering leaving the door exactly where it was. I picked it up, fitted it back into the frame, and shoved the bolts back into the hinges. There was no sound from inside.

I had just about had it with this life of mine. I went downstairs, through the den, and out into the backyard. The summer heat sealed itself around my face like a wet rag.

I was getting out of here. I locked the door behind me and stepped into the shadow of the house, glancing around quickly to make sure that I was entirely alone, and hid my outer clothes under the porch. If there was one thing that could clear my head, it was webswinging. I crawled up to the roof and jumped, using the branches of the tree as a springboard to propel me to the roof of the next house, and the next. It was time for me to go out, anyway, just to keep an eye out for the common criminals, the muggers, the burglars. I didn't want to think about the others, Benny, or Harry.

Or the amount of trouble I would be in if Mom or Dad found out that I had been patrolling.

I swung to the top of the bridge and slid down the cables to the Manhattan side, then leaped into the air again. The winking lights swirled around me as I swung. I flew over South Street Seaport, Chinatown, over streets and avenues that ran together into one net of concrete. It was only as I reached the Osborn brownstone that I stopped.

I felt my face burn under my mask. I bent my fingers to swing again. I'd patrol the Bronx, Kings, anywhere, as long as it was far away from here. I aimed and fired, just as a greenish flash caught the corner of my eye.

_Huh?_ I dropped the line and crouched on the edge of the roof, peering through the semi-darkness. I couldn't see anything unusual.

Something flitted across the roof and disappeared. A roof that I could have sworn was empty.

Another crouched shape followed, dodging from shadow to shadow. The shape of a man. Then another, another, another.

"What is this?" I muttered.

They were tall, helmeted, dressed in black, commando-like suits. I saw bullet proof vests, grappling hooks, handguns...and on each of their backs, a large submachine gun.

"Intervals at four feet. Go straight through to the plaster. I want the angles even. And keep it down, will you, Friedmann?"

"Yes, sir."

_Friedmann? _I had heard that name before, I was certain. The shadow, Friedmann, beckoned to the other three forms. They were black, almost bulky, and I made out what might have been ungainly equipment strapped to their backs.

"Anubis could've handled this," I heard one of them growl in a deep undertone. "It'd be quick and easy for him. This is so low profile it's..." he spat a furious curse, "...insulting."

"You want to deal with Anubis? Then you talk to him. Just don't expect me to save your miserable hide when he makes you walk yourself over the edge of the Woolworth Tower like he did with Michaux," the leader snarled. "Shut up and get to work."

Anubis. This had something to do with Anubis.

Four of them crouched on the rooftop, positioning what looked like long metal rods on the gravel. One of them took another rod and traced lines between the first four, creating the outline of a square. There was a faint sizzle, and a wisp of smoke followed the path of the rod. The fourth backed away and from somewhere unseen took out two large, magnetized clamps. He leaned over the square, braced himself, and heaved. The thick square of roof came with him.

Noiselessly, one by one, they lowered themselves into the space beneath and dropped, feet first, into darkness. My spider-sense began to hum dangerously.

I swung, landing as silently as I could on the roof, barely breathing. Car horns honked in the distance, traffic grumbled, a train whistle blew. But from below was only thick, heavy quiet.

Slowly, my breath held, I climbed through the hole, clinging upside down to the ceiling beneath. It was a hallway, paneled, carpeted, dark and empty except for the cluster of five ghosts that navigated the hall with precise, measured steps. I crawled along the ceiling, trying to become another shadow on the plaster, my spider-sense beginning to hum. The five of them slunk down the corridor and paused before a door.

The door opened silently into dimness. I saw a wall of darkened computer monitors, a desk covered with miniaturized tools, books, CDs. A shape was motionless in the bed, a shape with messy brown hair.

Harry's room. Harry's room! They were going to...

The first turned to look at the leader, his black mirrored faceplate blankly reflecting the hall around him. The leader shook his head, and the first pulled the door closed with a soft click. They continued stealthily on.

If they weren't after Harry, then who...? I crawled after them.

"Two rooms down."

"Yes, sir."

They prowled down the hall, weapons couched in their arms, passing one door, then another. "Here," the leader muttered. His voice became harsh.

"You two, Grisdale and Friedmann. You know what to do," the leader said, jerking his helmet at the closed wooden door. "Number one doesn't want this clean. Do it so it looks clumsy. Like an amateur," the dry voice rasped. I heard a snort. "Shouldn't be to hard for you, eh, Friedmann?"

A bout of sniggering accompanied the name. "Sir..." Friedmann said, his voice trembling. "Sir...I've studied the layout and I think-"

"You think you can play tour guide so you won't get your hands dirty," the leader sneered, clearly mocking. "Whatever. Smith, you go with Grisdale. Friedmann and Korovin, you're with me. We'll plant the evidence downstairs."

"Plant the evidence," I repeated, whispering. The dry voice of the leader muttered again, sharp, cold, and cruel.

"Remember, make it incriminating for the boy."

The leader, Friedmann, and another, Korovin, crept away from the door and vanished like wraiths down the stairs. The second figure opened the door and shut it quickly with a sharp nod, but not quickly enough to keep me from catching a glimpse of the sleeping figure within.

It was Beth McKay.

_Make it incriminating for the boy._

"Oh, my..." I whispered.

The assassin's gloved hand reached for the knob again. The other tightened his grip on his gun. The door opened slowly, and I leaped, twirling from my perch and landing directly behind them. Before they had time to blink, I clamped my hands around the backs of their necks.

"Hello," I said, forcing lightness into my tone. "Lovely summer we've been having, don't you think?"

The assassins froze. I gave them both a slight shake. "Don't you think?"

"Commander," one croaked. "What do we do?"  
"I...I..."

"Altogether too lovely to spend inside," I said conversationally, maneuvering them backwards and tightening my grip. The wide glass window was behind us, overlooking the patio and swimming pool enclosed in by a Roman-styled atrium. "So, go out. Live a little!"

I shoved them both forward and rammed my elbows through the glass. As the two of them struggled to their feet, I shot two lines of web at their backs and swung, sending them both through the empty window.

"_Aaaaaaaauuuugh!" _

I waited for the splash and the sound of enraged shouts from below, then took off down the corridor. That had been loud enough to wake the block. Whoever was in this house had to have heard _that_...

I skidded to a stop as a figure in a robe and nightgown stumbled out of the bedroom and slammed her palm against the lightswitch. It was Harry's aunt, Beth McKay, a small woman whom I had always recognized by her short gray ponytail and the cheerful, boundless energy that she seemed to constantly have. Now, she blinked owlishly in the light, stifling a yawn. "What in the...what's going..." Her eyes flew open.

"Sp-...Sp-..." she stuttered. "Sp-_Spider-Girl_?"

"Hi, ma'am," I said. "I'm sorry to disturb you so late at night, but I don't think this is the safest place for you."

"Spider-Girl! Madam!" Wells strode down the hall towards us, still in his impeccable suit. He stopped, inclined his head towards me calmly, then turned his attention to Mrs. McKay. "It has come to my attention that there are several intruders with harmful intent currently at large in the house," Wells said, his voice supremely collected. "If Madam would be so kind as to accompany me..."

"Wells...what...what..." Mrs. McKay stammered, her head whipping between me and Wells so quickly it looked as if she were watching a tennis match.

"This way, Madam." Wells took her elbow and steered her towards the stairs. "If Spider-Girl would please bring up the rear..."

I didn't bother to ask questions. We had to get Beth McKay out of here, then come back for Harry. Wells led the way, gliding serenely over the balcony overlooking the entrance hall and to the landing at the top of the curving staircase.

"I can't see anything," Mrs. McKay said groggily. "At least get the lights..."

"_Madam...!"_

Mrs. McKay slapped her palm against the switch. The wall lamps glowed to life, revealing the forms of three black-clad, masked assassins, frozen almost comically as they gaped up at the landing. The leader held a small case of some kind of reddish powder, and seemed to have been dabbing it on the surface of one of the marble pillars of the hall with a small brush.

"_Spider-Girl?_"

"They've got the woman!"

The leader gestured disdainfully and returned to the pillar. "Kill them."

"Madam, if you would..." Wells shoved Mrs. McKay behind him, reached inside his coat, drew out two automatic handguns and began firing steadily at the approaching soldier.

I didn't have time for astonishment. My spider-sense warned me just in time to twist out of the way of a red beam that lanced into the wall where I had clung a split second before. It seared the wood with a blinding flash. Charred pieces of paneling pattered to the floor.

"_Lasers?" _I gasped aloud.

There was the sound of a door opening, and Harry appeared at on the balcony, his hair touseled, blinking groggily. "What the.."

"Harry! Harry, _run_!" Mrs. McKay screamed.

He turned to stare at her, horrified, as Korovin swung his rifle up to the level of his chest and sent a flurry of bullets at the balcony.

"_No!"_

The bullets impacted Harry's chest with the piercing screech of metal on metal. Sparks flew. Harry, his face twisted with pain, fell, as if in slow motion, back onto the balcony and out of sight.

"_Harry!" _My heart in my throat, I leaped and swung across the room, running along the walls as bullet holes lined the wall after me. He couldn't be dead. I had seen the sparks. He was wearing his armor. He had to have been wearing it, somehow...

"You fool!" the leader raged. "You've killed him!"

I landed, crouched, in a sea of rubble. Harry lay spread-eagled on his back, his breaths wheezing, his face white. His T-shirt hung in shreds over the links of greenish chain mail gleaming dully in the light. He opened his eyes slowly. "That," he croaked, "is almost as painful as it looks."

I seized his arm, hauling him to his feet. "They're after your aunt!"

"They're _what_?" Another round of gunfire. Harry's face hardened. "Oh, _are_ they?" he said. His teeth were clenched, and a frightening glint flared in his eyes. "If you'll give me a minute..."

"By all means," I said. Harry kicked a chunk of plaster out of his way and vanished down the hall.

I swung just in time to see Wells kick the heavy mahogany table on its side and duck behind it, dragging Beth McKay with him. Bullets gouged furrows across the thick wood. A moment later the upper half of Wells's gray head appeared, his eyes narrowed to slits, along with a hand holding a gleaming gun.

Something told me that Wells was not your average English butler.

"Harry!" Mrs. McKay's shriek split the air, anguished, despairing. "_Harry!" _

I had to keep the gunmen away from them, and Spider-Girl was about as immune to bullets as anyone else. The three of them were lining up, taking dead aim at the Wells's hasty barrier...

I raised my hands and fired twice. The webbing splattered over their ankles. I grabbed the lines and wrenched, jerking their feet out from under them and sending them all to the floor in a tangled heap.

"Korovin, you moron, get off me!"

"Sorry, commander."

The larger assassin, Korovin, hauled himself to his feet, fumbling with something in his belt. Only when the light gleamed off the ring did I realize that it was a grenade. He hooked his finger through the ring, tensed his arm...

A thin, shadowy form materialized behind him. "Should not be throwing those in house,_ ja_?"

The shape swatted the grenade away, its pin still in place, and vanished into thin air with a _bamf_.

_Nacht!_

Korovin spun on the spot, bewildered. I webslung to the ceiling and sprang, landing on the railing of the balcony and skidding to a stop. Nacht appeared, crouching, his face in shadow.

"Nacht! Kurt! What are you _doing_ here?"

"I distract. Help them!" _Bamf!_

A moment later the room plunged into darkness. Only a shaft of bluish artificial light streaming through one of the shattered windows, casting a dim glow over the rapidly deteriorating entrance hall.

A deep voice bellowed, "_Da dank ich Euch!"_

Friedmann started. The weapon slipped in his hands."What was that?"

"Get a grip on yourself, soldier!" the leader snapped. "It's some sort of trick. Stand your ground!"

"_Denn mit den Toten!" _

The two assassins revolved on the spot, back to back, machine guns raised menacingly, scanning the balcony, the ceiling.

"There's something else in here!" Friedmann gasped.  
"No, really?"

The voice boomed through the hall, becoming deeper with each reverberation. "_Hab ich mich niemals gern befangen!"_

"You know German, sir?" Friedmann's voice was ridiculously small.

"No. You?"

"Some."

"Well, what's he saying?" The leader sounded as if he were finally losing his calm.

"I can't...I can't get it all...but..."

"_Für einen Leichnam bin ich nicht zu Haus..._" A wicked chuckle echoed from the balcony.

I could almost see the Friedmann's face blanching through his faceplate as he translated. He quavered, "He's saying...he said..." I heard an audible gulp. _"'When corpses come, I have just left the house_...'"

"I've heard that before," the first muttered pensively.

Nacht's voice rose in volume, a fiendish amusement inserted in his tone. For the sake of drama, or at least I hoped that was what it was. "_Mir geht es wie der Katze..." _

The assassin voice seemed to be being sucked out of him. The last sentence ended in a squeak. _"'I...I feel as the cat does...'" _

_Bamf!_

Friedmann whirled to find the face of Nachtgleiskette an inch away from his own, his yellow eyes stretched wide, his teeth bared in a lunatic grin._ "Mit der Maus!"_

A shriek of horror erupted from the assassin. He lurched backwards into the leader, who spun, smashing his elbow into Friedmann's helmet. "Shoot it!"

Nacht evaporated. The bullets plunged into a few wisps dark, thinning cloud.

"How in the hell did-" The leader's voice dripped with fear.

_Bamf!_

"There it is again!"

"Don't just stand there, you idiot! Shoot it! _Shoot it!"_

_Bamf! Bamf! Bamf! Bamf!_

Nacht snapped into view here, there, on all sides, teleporting so quickly that there seemed to be ten of him encircling the assassins as they whirled this way and that, completely disoriented. But the sound of gunshots continued.

The larger assassin, Korovin stood, rifle in hand, spraying the table that Wells had commandeered with bullets. I flipped behind him and clipped him with my knuckles. He staggered and faltered, just long enough for me to reach over his shoulder and snatch the machine gun from his hands.

I grasped the gun by the barrel and held it up as if I were inspecting it. "Do you have a permit for this?"

His handgun was halfway out by the time I fired, enveloping his hand, the gun, and the holster in a thick layer of webbing.

"That kind of behavior exemplifies why I'm such a strong advocate for gun control," I said, as I twisted the weapon in half. I tossed the pieces over my shoulder. "Consider it confiscated."

I had expected that to take the fight out of him. Instead, he reached into his belt, grabbed a thin, gleaming knife with his free hand, and flung it at me. I snatched it out of the air and threw it straight down into the floor, where it stuck, quivering.

"That's enough," I said. I heard an animal snarl from beneath the helmet. Korovin launched himself at me, his fingers curled into claws. I braced my feet, pulled back my fist, and swung. Korovin flew backwards, through the remnants of a pillar, which crumpled beneath his weight. I didn't stay to see him rise.

It was mayhem, a hurricane of shouts and gunfire. Flashes of light exploded everywhere, voices echoed, walls and furniture rent like paper under a stream of bullets. I couldn't stop running, doging, twisting out of the way of bullets and flying debris, my spider-sense howling and my muscles crying for rest. It was unreal, nightmarish, like a vivid dream...

Korovin was up again, strands of webbing clinging to his glove, the pistol in one hand, and a strange, elongated tube in the other. My spider-sense buzzed to life just in time for me to backflip out of the way of the lancing red beam.

I careened to the overturned table, where Wells and Beth McKay were still under siege. Another blast from the laser fractured the marble pillar beside me. I swung around it and crouched against the stone, gasping for breath. Wells crouched down, loading a fresh cartridge into one of his guns. Mrs. McKay leaned against the table, her head sagging onto her chest.

"What happened to Mrs...whoa!" A bullet blew past my face, so near that I felt an instant of heat against my mask. "What happened to Mrs. McKay?"

"She's fainted!" Wells shouted over the noise. He was bleeding from a gash along his cheekbone; a bullet had grazed him.

"Wells, get her out of here!"

"My job," huffed Wells, struggling to his feet. "Applies to young Mr. Osborn as well."

"_They're not after Harry!_" I yelled. "Now go! Now! Now!"

I flung myself out from behind the pillar. The assassin swung his weapons towards me, his fingers tightening on the triggers. Wells leaped out from his fortress, the limp form of Beth McKay in his arms, and raced across the room with a speed that was incredible for a man his age. He kicked a door open and disappeared.

Bullets whined over my head. "What the..."

Korovin raised the handgun again and fired. I swung into the air, thinking that I had really had enough of this creep.

The air whistled past my ears. Korovin turned. I drew back both feet and kicked. Korovin flew into Friedmann and crumpled, unmoving, unconscious.

"Friedmann! Assemble the laucher!" the leader screamed over the bursts of gunfire. Friedmann struggled with Korovin's equipment, tangled around his arms."I'll take care of the..."

I saw him raising the rifle and didn't wait to hear the rest of his sentence. I threw myself into a somersault, gritting my teeth as my spine hit the floor. I slapped my palm on the wood, tightened my arm, and spun into the best leg whip I could muster. The leader went down with a yelp, crashing through the strange tripod Friedmann had been hastily assembling. I handsprung to the nearest pillar and flattened myself against the cool marble, sweat plastering my mask to my face.

Nacht materialized behind the next pillar, panting."'Shoot it'?" he said. "My acting is not _that_ bad."

"Highly impressive," I agreed. "What was that, anyway?"

"Goethe's _Faust_," Nacht muttered. "I read. Perform it, too, in Munich."

"_Faust_? Who did you play?"

He gave me a wry look. "Who you think?"

I saw it coming before he did. "Get down!"

Something gray and striped hurtled between the pillars and smashed into the wall, burying itself in the wood. Coughing, I squinted through the settling dust. It looked like a long, finned tube, with a tiny, flashing red light. My spider-sense shrieked.

"Nacht!" I shouted. "Go! Go!"

I swung my arms over my head and webslung blindly, catapaulting into the air as a tremendous roar shook the house to its foundations. A cloud of fire belched from the missle as it detonated, searing the wood and making the air shimmer with heat.

"_Mein Gott!_" Nacht yelled.

The wall shuddered, seemed to ripple...and disintigrated like sand, revealing the darkened sitting room behind it.

"That was...was that a _missile_?"

I turned and saw Hobgoblin, Harry, eerily suspended in midair. The glider hummed angrily. "Believe it," I said.

"Aunt Beth! Where's Aunt Beth?"

"She's with Wells! Move!"

Harry ducked. The second missle barely clipped his helmet, sending him spinning in midair. It hit the edge of the balcony, exploding and hurling wood and plaster in all directions. A foot long splinter embedded itself in the wall beside my head.

I had known that there would be a fight. What I wasn't prepared for was a war zone.

"Will she be safe with him?" I choked out.

"Well," Harry said, his voice shaking uncontrollably. "He did a pretty good job protecting Margaret Thatcher."

"Point taken."

The two assassins were regrouping below, organizing themselves in formation. This wasn't over yet.

I swung onto the banister of the balcony, hearing it creak menacingly. Nacht teleported to the other end, and Harry slowly drifted to our level on the glider, something gleaming in his hand.

Friedmann seemed on the verge of a nervous collapse. "S-Sir!" he stuttered, staring at Harry's hovering form. "Wh-wh-what are you doing h-"

"It's just Osborn, Friedmann!" the leader hissed, and raised the launcher to his shoulder.

"But...but he's..." Friedmann's voice trailed away into nothing as Harry revealed the orange sphere and held it up. It glinted dully.

Harry's voice became harsh, grating, like the mask he wore. "Know what this is, pal?"

"Think I've never seen a grenade before?" the leader shouted.

"Seen one that will reduce you and the rest of this building to very fine ash, eh?" He tossed the sphere into the air and caught it lightly.

"Are you serious?" I whispered.

"No," he muttered, his normal voice returning for an instant. "I'm bluffing." He continued tossing the grenade casually, almost as if it were a softball, turning back to the assassins. "What'll it be?"

The leader and Friedmann were motionless, except for the heaving of their shoulders as they gasped for breath. They were as exhausted as I was. Would they call his bluff? Would they retreat?

The slightest noise rang in my ears. The silence vibrated against the walls.

Then, "Fall back! _Fall back!"_

The leader, Friedmann at his heels, spun and sped across the entrance hall, vanishing through a door under the staircase.

"Oh, no you don't." I leaped, landed on the floor and tore after them, sprinting with every ounce of speed I had left. They weren't going anywhere except downtown if I had a say in it. I had to stop them, to keep them from...

The shapes rounded a corner and vanished. I dashed forward, and whipped around the corner just in time to shield my eyes from the blinding green flash that exploded in the hallway. I reeled back, my hands clapped over my eyes, stumbling blindly. A blast of wind tugged at me, gusting past my ears as if it were being sucked into a vacuum...then, silence.

I opened my eyes gingerly and saw a deserted hallway.

"No," I said. They had to have ducked into a room, a closet...

The hallway ended in a flat wall, containing only a blue porcelain vase on a small table. I spun around, searching frantically. There was no one there. The hall was completely, impossibly empty.

I rushed down the corridor, stopping at the broken window overlooking the atrium. Shards of glass shone like icicles on the carpet. The pool was still.

More slowly, I swung down the stairs and into the entrance hall, certain of what I would find. Harry kicked a chunk of cement out of his path, maskless and with his glider hovering quietly behind him. Nacht perched on the banister, still eyeing the room warily.

"Korovin?" I asked.

"He's gone," Harry said flatly. "The boss, him, and Friedmann."

"Friedmann," I murmured. I hadn't had time to think any more on it until now. Friedmann...the name, the voice, I'd definetly heard both before...

_"Don't move, Friedmann!"_

_"I...I've got orders, man..."_

Dad's voice, Friedmann's voice...

A chill swept over me. I had seen Friedmann before, seven months before, on a drilling rig in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

And the assassins, what they had said before, about Anubis...

"I'm really looking forward to hearing the explanation for this," Harry said dryly. He gestured at the mess surrounding us.

Bullet holes scored the walls; the beautiful paneling was a mess of pulpy splinters. The antique furniture was ripped and broken, the bookshelves toppled, the books shredded. Huge craters gave the floor the appearance of a moonscape. The three of us, Harry, Nacht, and I stood there, staring numbly at one another, amidst the wreckage of what had once been the grand entrance hall of the Osborn mansion. The first faint sirens reached my ears.

"Well," I said finally, if only to break the silence. "I guess it could have been worse."

I spoke too soon. The second the last word left my mouth, the balcony collapsed.


	18. Chapter Seventeen: All Going to Change

Chapter Seventeen

                The police arrived in force not long afterwards, complete with SWAT gear, floodlights, and miles of yellow tape. When the first flashing lights appeared Harry dashed back into the gutted house to hide his equipment and look as though he had just been rudely awakened from sleep. An ambulance bearing him, Beth McKay, and Wells sped away from the scene, bound for Manhattan General as Nacht and I perched on the roof of the neighboring brownstone, hidden between a pair of stylized gargoyles.

                "Figures," I muttered, as three news vans came roaring down the avenue in a squeal of tires. "We ought to follow the ambulance."

                "You go," Nacht said. "I watch here. Listen to what is said by…" He inclined his head towards the brightly-lit crowd below. "Not all, but many things I understand. I find you later, _ja_?"

                "All right." I vaulted over the gutter and webslung, careening over the mass of cars in the direction of the retreating ambulance. I swung from building to building, racing after them. A few tourists yelled and pointed, but most people gave me a cursory glance and continued on their way. New Yorkers had gotten used to me long ago.  

                Manhattan General was as awake and brightly-lit as ever. The ambulance pulled into the emergency room. The paramedics jumped from the cab and ran to open the back door. They lifted the stretcher bearing Beth McKay, still unconscious, out of the ambulance and unfolded its wheels. Exchanging hurried words, hustled her through the large swinging doors, Harry and Wells at their heels.

                I wouldn't be able to find out anything now. Hoping that Mrs. McKay would be all right, I changed direction and swung around the corner just in time to see someone leaving through one of the hospital's personnel entrances. I jerked myself to a stop in midair and allowed myself to swing backwards. It was Dad, in the clothes that Mom had packed for him that morning and carrying a duffel bag. He tossed a quick look over his shoulder and jogged down the steps onto the main sidewalk.

                I fired a webline to the cement roof of the parking garage and let my momentum carry me up to the roof. I somersaulted over the edge and looked around. Only a few cars, and no people. Thirty feet below, Dad pulled his sling off and tossed it in a sidewalk trash can. He shook out his arm, cracked his neck, and began walking in the direction of the corner.

                "Dad!" I yelled as softly as I could. "Dad!"

                Dad halted. His head snapped up. I waved slightly. Dad dropped his gaze, casually slipped around the corner, cast a swift glance at the street, then leaped onto the wall, climbing easily up the concrete wall. He hopped over the edge of the roof, glaring. "What did I tell you about patrolling?" he demanded angrily, tossing down the duffel bag. "You know it's-"

                "Harry's house," I interrupted. "It's destroyed."

                He stopped. "What?"

                "Assassins," I said. "Five of them. Machine guns, missiles, lasers…" I made a feeble gesture. "The whole front is gutted. Mrs. McKay's unconscious. They brought her here in an ambulance."

                Dad struck the concrete softly with his fist and ran his fingers through his hair. "Damn it! If they had just let me out…"

                "Did they just release you?"

                "No," Dad said. "I left. Oh, don't worry," he added dryly. "They won't forget to send us the bill."

                "I left Nacht at the brownstone. He's watching the police to see what they find."

                "Nacht?"              

                "I never got to tell you. He's…" I trailed off, my eyes fixing on the figure climbing out of the car that had been hurriedly parked across the street. It was Doc.

                Dad followed my gaze. "What's happening?"

                "Doc. He's getting out of his car."

                Doc locked the door and walked quickly down the sidewalk, his brow furrowed. As he reached the corner another car pulled up just beside his, and a man stepped out of the passenger door and blinked owlishly in the light from the hospital. It was Leonard Shire. He started as he caught sight of Doc. "Rob! There you are!" he yelled, rushing down the sidewalk. "Rob!"

                "Who's that?" Dad muttered.

                "That's Dr. Shire," I said. "He's an expert in tropical medicine."

                "How do you know that?"

                "Well, today we-"

                Dad held up his hand. "Wait. Look."

                Shire had caught up with Doc. He was carrying something in a small white box. From this distance I could barely make out the red biohazard symbol stamped on its side. Shire was gesticulating wildly. Doc shook his head, raising his hands. Straining my ears, I heard, "I'm sorry, Leonard; I can't talk right now. A friend of mine's just been brought into the ER…"  

                "Just give me a few seconds," Shire pleaded. "I have something for you. It's important."

                "What is it?" asked Doc, eyeing the box dubiously.

                "This," said Shire, lifting the box. "Raw _radix pedis diaboli_. It's just arrived from Kampala." He handed it to Doc. Doc took it gingerly, as if it was a bomb about to explode. "For your crime lab," Shire said. "Now that I've realized that this plant can be used as a weapon I can't allow it to go unstudied." He put his hands in his pockets. "With research they may be able to generate an antidote. Do you have any colleagues who might…?"

                "One of the pathologists downtown is an old college buddy of mine. If anything, I can get him to look at it."  

                "I've sent a sample to my London office as well," said Shire. "I can guarantee that it's the only specimen remaining in western Europe. It's terrifically hard to get; it took ages for me to track this sample down in Uganda. I should have submitted it for study long ago, but…" He shrugged helplessly. "I never thought there would be a need. You don't know how guilty I feel about that now."

                "You can bring this to the attention of the public?" Doc asked. "The scientific public, I mean?"

                "I have connections at Oxford. The forensics professor owes me a favor." Shire smiled wanly. "Bloke can't stand being in debt, I'm afraid. Anyway, I'm sure he can get the pharmacology department in an uproar."

                They shook hands. Doc nodded his thanks and hurried across the street, disappearing through the brightly lit doors of the emergency room. Shire stood looking after him for a few seconds, then walked back to the car. He climbed into the passenger's seat and closed the door. The car glided smoothly away from the curb.

                "_Diaboli_ must not be that hard to get," I muttered. "Anubis seemed to have quite a bit of it at his disposal."

                "Just where did you find this out?" Dad frowned suspiciously. "I'll rephrase that. Where were you, what were you doing, and was it dangerous?"                        

                So I explained, starting from the morning, and becoming inwardly amazed as I spoke. Had all of this happened in just one day? The lecture, following Ladyhawk to her lighthouse, the attack at the Osborn house? Dad was silent, his face tightening as I went on, interrupting only once to say, "Did you say one of them was called Friedmann?"                       

                "Yes," I said. "And I recognized his voice." I took a deep breath. "It was him. From the rig."

                Dad's face was taut. His lips were white.

                "Dad, when you were at the rig…" I ventured, after a moment.   "Did you know what was going on?"

                "No," Dad said. "They didn't tell us anything. Our…the guards, I mean…our job was just that: to guard. We didn't ask, they didn't tell." He looked down at the street. "But Garcia…Black Widow…she headed the facility. But she wasn't _the_ head, if you know what I mean." He turned back to me. "Someone else headed the entire operation. No one knew anything about him, or her."

                "Do you…do you think Anubis is working for the same person?"

                Dad didn't speak for a longtime, and when he did, it was a murmur so faint that it was almost lost in the unceasing rumble of the traffic. "I hope not."

                He checked his watch. "It's almost four o' clock." He looked at me shrewdly. "Why do I have the sneaking suspicion that Mom doesn't know you're out?"

                 I shrugged. Dad shook his head. "Mayday, why don't you ever…" He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let's go home."

                "How? On the bus?"          

                "No." Dad hefted the duffel bag. "Your mom packed me a change of clothes."

                "But what do we do now?" I asked, waving weakly towards the hospital. "About this?"

                "Keep up the act," he said. "That's all we can do."

                Quite literally, it appeared, because the next morning Mom informed that I would have to leave soon if I was going to be on time for play rehearsal.

                I choked on my cereal. "Mom, are you serious? I've got to-"

                She arranged the salt shakers on the island. "Your father told me about your day yesterday."

                I put my spoon down. "Oh."

                "Don't get too relaxed. I'm not going to tell you how angry I am with you, due to our circumstances…" Mom nodded at the den, where the TV was blaring. Andrea, no doubt. "But since we can't keep you at home, we'll have to settle for you being around a bunch of people who'll notice if you do anything odd."

                "Meaning I can't," I sighed.

                "Exactly. And there's safety in numbers."      

                I picked up my bowl and went to the garbage disposal. "All right, all right, I'll go."

                "Glad to hear it. Andrea's going with you."

                I stopped. "What?"

                "Andrea's going with you. I've already told her."

                "You're doing all this just so I won't go patrolling?" I sputtered. "_Mom!_"

                Mom patted me on the shoulder. "Have a good rehearsal."

                I groaned and went into the den. One of the most depressing things in life, I thought, was having your own parents conspire against you.

                The news was on in. I came within earshot in time to hear, "Police report that Harry Osborn was unhurt in the attack. His legal guardian, Mrs. Elizabeth McKay, is currently being treated for bruises and mild shock."

                I rushed to the television, but the screen had already changed to war coverage. Andrea sat on the couch, fiddling with our video camera.

                "What are you doing?"

                She snapped the case closed. "I'm going to apply to UCLA for college and I want to get started on being a filmmaker."

                I might have actually bought that had it come from anyone else. I sighed, "Andrea, what are you _really_ doing with that camera?"

                "Oh, get a life and keep out of mine, okay?"

                "Couldn't be happier to do so." I left the den and picked up my backpack from where I had left it in the front hall. "I'm leaving now!" I yelled up the stairs, then went out and shut the door behind me. Maybe I could get away fast enough to avoid-

                I heard the door open and shut behind me. I turned around. Andrea stood on the porch, scowling. "Don't look at me like this was _my_ idea." We walked to the bus and got on in silence.

                This was ridiculous. I shouldn't be acting, I should be out _doing_ something! Who knew what could happen while I was dancing around on stage like a lunatic? What were they doing, always trying to protect me?  

                Well, being good parents, but even so!          

                Anubis. Black Widow. How were they connected? Were they both, as dangerous as they were, only subordinates? Who could they be working for? What did that person want, and why?

                We got off in front of Midtown and rounded the building towards the theater.

                What had Black Widow wanted most of all? The OsCorp performance enhancer. She had kidnapped Doc in order to force him to reveal the formula. But what had she possibly wanted with a formula with multiple personality disorder as a side effect? Anubis. Who knew what Anubis wanted?

                "We have got _ten days_!" Felder was bawling as we entered the house. "No, make that_ I_ have got ten days! Ten days to turn you whack jobs into a cast and crew! And we're starting with Act One, Scene Three, so if that's your scene, _get on stage before I lose my temper!_" She stomped backstage, yelling, "And quit laughing back there!"  

                "Act Three, Scene One," I murmured, flipping through my script. What Mom saw in this acting business was beyond me. "No, Act One, Scene Three." Puck and Fairy. "Wait, that's us." I looked around for time and saw him sitting in the house, jabbing keys on an ancient laptop. A mess of cords stretched from its ports to a socket in the wall.  

                "Hi, Tim," I called, a little warily. "What's that?"

                "Arachnophile.com," he said. "A website devoted to Spider-Girl and Spider-Man. Photos, chat, the works. Even bios of everyone they've defeated."

                "You are so pathetic," Andrea sneered.

                "I am not pathetic," Tim responded evenly. "I am obsessed. There's a difference."               

                Felder came storming back into the house from backstage, cursing violently. "Ah…Felder?" I asked tentatively. "Hi. I-"

                "Don't even _talk_ to me, Parker!" She rounded on me, her face tomato red. "I don't care how small your role is, it's your…" She added what I thought an unnecessary expletive, "…responsibility to this play to _be_ here! Not racing off like you do all the time! Act One, Scene Three, get out there _now_!"

                Tim and I stared at each other uneasily. Felder turned away, growling, "I swear, if I see _one _more thing…"

                Nick Ekpa and JJ Jameson chose that moment to begin pulling a huge stack of Greek armor across the stage on a cart, all in cardboard boxes piled precariously on top of each other. Balanced on top of it all was Bottom's donkey head, grinning blankly.  

                "Oh, sorry," said Nick. "Are you practicing?"

                Felder looked as if she were slowly being filled with boiling water. "Ek…pa…"

                Nick raised his eyebrows slightly. "You okay, Felder?"

                Felder erupted. "You morons! Are you out of your _minds_? I _told_ you we're doing Scene Three! Is there something _wrong_ with you? What does it _take_ to get you to synapse? Why is there not a single person in this…" _Three_ expletives this time. "…_company_ with brains enough to fill a _teaspoon_? We've got less than two weeks before this house will be filled with people waiting to see something _fantastic_, and what have I got? Dumb and Dumber screwing up the _one_ practice I've had in _weeks_ with my Scene Three beginners!"

                There was a very tense pause. Felder stood frozen, brandishing her pencil like a sword and seething through her teeth.

                "Wow," said JJ. "Thanks, Felder." He punched Nick on the arm. "Pay up."

                Nick groaned and reached for his wallet. Felder lowered her clipboard and stared at them. "What…what are you doing?"

                "He owes me five bucks," JJ said. "I bet that you'd blow up in under one minute following our discreet interruption. Ekpa bet between one and two." He brandished a stopwatch. "I won."

                Felder gaped at him like a beached trout. "Wha-…wha-…wha-…"

                "Side bets!" Nick yelled into the wings. "Two to one odds that Felder assaults someone before the end of the day! Who wants to take the assault bet?"         

                Felder's voice was strangely hushed. "Go," she said. "Away. Far away."

                "Us? Why? Are we bothering you?" asked JJ.

                "You." She slowly raised her hand to point at them. "Go. Now," she hissed. "Get yourselves somewhere far, far away."

                "But what about the crates?" inquired Nick, his face comically innocent.

                "Leave them there and _get off my stage_."

                JJ eyed the stack. "Looks a little unstable, doesn't it? Oh, wait, we forgot to tell you our idea!"

                Felder's left eye began to twitch alarmingly. "I-…idea?"

                "_A Midsummer Night's Dream_. It's a comedy," said Nick. "It's kind of one-track, you know. How can we appreciate Shakespeare if we don't have some variety? Tragedy, perhaps?" Nick dropped to his knees and struck a ridiculous pose, with one arm stretched out towards Felder and his face arranged into an expression of utter devotion. "_What light from yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Felder is the_-"

                He ducked just in time. The clipboard sailed over his head and crashed into the wall. Felder bounced up and down with rage, screaming, "Out! Out! _Now!_"

                The two of them finally ambled into the wings, snickering. "Uh…" said Tim tentatively. "You, uh…you still want us up there, or what?"

                Felder spun around with murder in her eyes.

                "We're going!"

                Tim and I rushed into the wings, where Nick and JJ were lounging against the wall, cackling. Pele jogged down the stairs. She smirked sarcastically. "Well, if it isn't Fred and George come to grace us with their presence."

                JJ saluted lazily with two fingers.

                "What's the matter with you guys? Do you hate her or something?"

                "Who, Felder? Nah. We're just trying to get her to loosen up," said Nick, cracking his knuckles. "It's bad for her blood pressure."

                "_You_ are bad for her blood pressure." Pele shook her head. "You two are evil."

                JJ grinned wickedly and waved the bill in front of her face. "Yes, and isn't it lucrative?"

                A few seconds later the house lights dimmed, and Felder barked, "Act One, Scene Three!"

                I was the first to go out, entering from stage right. I flitted around aimlessly, wondering whether I looked as stupid as I felt. After a moment Tim spun out onstage from the left. "_How now, spirit!_" he called._ "Whither wander you?_"

                I remembered to look surprised. "_Over hill, over dale…_" I began.

                "_Thorough brush, thorough brier,_

_                Over park, over pale,_

_                Thorough_…"

                I stopped. What was the rest of it? How did it go? Thorough…thorough what?

                Tim was shaking his head pityingly, probably thinking that Spider-Girl wouldn't forget her lines in a play. "_Thorough_…" I stammered. "_Thorough_…"

                "Flood!" Felder yelled from the darkness. "Flood, Parker!"

                "_Thorough flood, thorough fire,_

_                I do wander everywhere!_"

                I barreled through the rest of my lines at breakneck speed. Felder interrupted me halfway through and made me start again, from the beginning. I couldn't concentrate at all. I shouldn't be here, I should have been out patrolling, I should be looking for Nacht, to ask him what he had discovered, or even Ladyhawk, to-

                "Parker! _Wake up!_"

                This went on for another hour, with Tim and I repeating the scene over and over until Felder deemed it acceptable and let us go. "For _now_," she added ominously as we trudged off the stage. Within two seconds Matt and Pele had recruited me to help them paint scenery, or, more specifically, most of the scenery we would be using for the play. Two hours later, it was up to the box to learn how to operate the lights; the people with minor roles had to be prepared to work the lights for other scenes. Everyone went to a nearby hotdog stand for lunch around two, then came back again. This time it was helping Marnie with costumes. Then ripping up the old blocking tape used for the play-within-a-play, because Felder had decided to do something completely different with the scene. Then helping the major roles rehearse, then… It was almost six o' clock in the evening by the time Felder called for us again, and I was totally exhausted.__

                We started from the beginning of the scene. I managed to finish my speech without stumbling or earning any screaming reprimands from Felder. Struggling to hide my relief, I waved my hand disdainfully and said,

                _"Farewell, thou lob of spirits; I'll be gone_

_                Our Queen and all her elves come here anon."_

                Tim bounded forward and whirled to a stop beside me, leaning forward as if he were whispering a fantastic secret.

                "_The King doth keep his revels here tonight._

_                Take heed the Queen come not within his sight._

_                For Oberon is passing fell and wrath,_

_                Because that she as her attendant hath…"_

                Over his shoulder, I noticed Marnie and Attalie pawing through a pile of boxes backstage. "No, it's not here," said Marnie, throwing up her hands. "If it's not in these here we've had it; we can't afford more material." She reached for a shelf blocked by a metal cart. "Can you move that?"

                "Sure." Attalie shoved the cart and turned away. It rattled partially onstage and nudged the huge stack of props that Nick and JJ had left onstage.

                I pointed. "Uh…Attalie…"

                The stack wobbled dangerously against one of the heavy pylons supporting the canopy used for the forest scenes. The pylon shifted. Thin streams of dust poured from where its top met the canopy. My spider-sense began to prickle.

                Tim went on obliviously as the shadow fell over him.

                "_And jealous Oberon would have the child_

_                Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild._

_                But she, perforce, withholds the lovèd boy,_

_                Crowns him with flowers, and makes him all her joy…"_

                "Johanssen!" Felder screamed. "_Look out!_"

                Tim looked up. "What?" He turned around and froze.

                The pylon toppled like a felled tree, shredding the edge of the curtain as it went. Tim stood paralyzed, his mouth slightly open, as the shadow grew larger and larger. There was no time to think. I bounded across the stage and shoved Tim out of the way just as the pylon hit my back, slamming me to the floor in a cloud of dust.

                I dizzily did a quick damage assessment. The fall had knocked the wind out of me for a second, but otherwise I was fine. But I had to get out from under the pylon before the dust cleared, or… I pushed it off and winced as it crashed down again, throwing up another cloud of powdered plaster.

                "Oh, my God! What happened?"

                "Tim? What're you doing over there?"

                "Mayday! Are you okay?"

                All of a sudden Pele and JJ were on either side of me. They took my arms and pulled me onto my feet. I wobbled unsteadily. My back throbbed. That would definitely leave a bruise.

                "I'm…fine…" I said, coughing. The cloud of dust was settling

                "Jeeze, how lucky is _that_?" someone said. Then, "What happened to Tim?"

                After a moment, I made out the shape of Tim, sprawled on the floor with his eyes closed. I tensed. What was wrong with him? Had I pushed him too hard? Had I…

                Matt knelt beside him and shook him lightly. Tim's head lolled on his shoulders.  

                "Is he okay?" someone asked nervously.

                "I think he's just fainted," called Matt.

                I let out my breath in a rush. Someone patted me on the shoulder. "Great job. How did you get there so fast?"

                "No _way_."

                I turned and saw Andrea on stage, gaping at me. "I…I saw you," she said. "That pylon hit you."

                "It…it sort of glanced off," I said.

                "_Glanced off?"_ Andrea howled, almost hysterically. "That should've broken your spine! You should be in an ambulance! You should be dead!"

                "Isn't it nice to know how everyone cares so much for my well-being," I grumbled. "I'm…I'm going to go get some water." Trying to ignore the openmouthed stairs, I went out the stage door and into the hall. I didn't stop at the water fountain. I went past the dressing rooms, up the stairs and out onto the sidewalk, where I leaned against the wall. Words couldn't express how glad I was to get out of there. Not only did my back ache, but the look on Andrea's face had sent a twinge of unease through me, though I wasn't sure why. It wasn't as though Andrea would ever guess how I had survived.

                "Hey! Mayday!"

                I looked up and saw Harry peering down at me over the edge of the theater roof. He jerked his head meaningfully and disappeared. I sidled into the alley and glanced around. No one seemed to be watching. I tensed my legs and hopped onto the bricks, crawling quickly to the top. Harry was waiting on the roof, dressed normally except for his pair of green gauntlets. His glider hovered quietly a few feet away. He set the book he had been reading on top of an air conditioning compressor. "It's about time you came out of there. What's wrong?" he asked, frowning worriedly as I grimaced.

                "My back hurts."

                Harry raised his eyebrows. "Unusually well-preserved for your age, aren't you, ma'am?"

                "Oh, shut up," I grumped. "What's going on? How's your aunt?"

                "Sedated." Harry's face grew serious. "They say she'll be all right; she was only badly frightened. They're sending a psychologist to see her today." He sighed. "They tried to get me to talk to one too."

                "Where are they keeping you?"

                "The FBI city headquarters."   

                "The FBI?" I asked. "What'll happen if they find out you're gone?"

                "They'll lecture me for a long time and probably lock me in next time." He shrugged. "For all the difference that'll make."

                He reached into his pocket and took out something small and black. "I picked this up at the house and scanned it. I don't like what I found." I realized it was a bullet.

                "This," he said, holding it up, "was manufactured by Quest Aerospace."

                "How can you tell?" I asked.

                "Because it isn't a normal bullet. See this?" He tapped the head. "When this hits a target the head explodes into hundreds of serrated fragments that travel out from the point of impact. It's designed to turn a person's guts to ground beef." He returned it to his pocket. "It was developed seven or eight years ago, when the company was still OsCorp, but it never went into mass production. The government thought it was too cruel to use on enemies."

                "Huh," I said. Harry smirked. "Politics aside," he said, his face falling again, "no one else in the world could have manufactured this bullet. This _came_ from Quest Aerospace." He hooked his thumbs in his pockets. "Or OsCorp."

                OsCorp again. "_Make it incriminating for the boy_," I muttered.

                "What?"

                "That's what I heard one of them say. 'Make it incriminating for the boy'," I repeated.

                "They…" Harry's eyes widened. "They were going to murder Aunt Beth," he said, "and _frame_ me?"

                "That's what it looks like," I said grimly. Harry was shaking his head slowly, his mouth slightly open. "What would have happened if they'd actually…" I didn't want to say it. "If they'd succeeded? You would have been arrested."

                "I'd end up in jail," he said, looking down. He kicked at the gravel with his sneaker. "Since I'm legally a minor, they'd make me a ward of the state. I'd disappear into the system." He bit his lower lip so hard that it went white. "It looks like someone wants me out of the way."

                "Someone connected with Anubis." Harry looked down again. "That's not all, I found, either."

                "There's more?"

                Harry reached into his other pocket and took out a small gray case. He opened it, revealing a mess of keys and buttons. Unfolded, it looked something like a large cell phone. He turned it so I could see the small screen embedded between columns of buttons. In the display was a fuzzy image of the earth, seen from space. Hundreds of white ellipses circled the globe at dozens of different angles. "This," Harry said, "is a map of every satellite of every kind currently in orbit." He punched a button. "Look at this."

                All of the ellipses disappeared, leaving a small white dot positioned over New York City. 

                "A low-orbiting espionage satellite. It's been watching my house. Parked in orbit directly over Manhattan Island." The display disappeared. "And I think there are more of them, but I haven't figured out where they're positioned yet." He snapped the case closed. "That someone put a lot of time and money into this. Oh," he said, handing it to me. "This is for you."

                I looked at it blankly. "What is it?"

                "All-purpose scanning equipment. As of yet, it's only got a primitive bio-sensor, but the betatron produces some really short-wave X-rays, which is good. You can see through a concrete wall with this. See, you operate it by…" He tapped different parts of the screen, each time pulling up a different display. "See?" He held it out over the empty roof. In the display, human-shaped red blobs were moving around below. "Heat sensing." He tapped another part of the screen. "X-rays." The display dimmed and flickered on again, this time showing indistinct white skeletons. "And normal." He tapped it again. The display switched to a clear view of the Midtown thespians struggling to shift the fallen pylon, as clearly as though the roof had been made of glass. "Wow," I said. "This is incredible. Did you…?"

                "I…uh…well." Harry said, red creeping into his face. "It's not an original idea. Lots of people have tried to create something like this before. They just didn't have the parts. I've…uh…here." He handed it to me. "Might come in useful in spying."

                "Thanks," I said, still awed. Brilliant didn't describe this. Harry was on his way to becoming a technological genius, if he wasn't one already.

                "No problem," he said. He looked at the digital billboard clock across the street.   "I've got to get back before they come to check on me." He lifted his gauntleted hands and clenched his fists. Thousands of green metal scales unfolded up his arms and across his chest until they enveloped him from the neck down, shimmering eerily. They solidified abruptly with a snap to form Harry's Hobgoblin armor. 

                "I'll see you." He hopped onto the glider and dropped over the edge of the roof.

                The book still lay on top of the compressor. "Harry, you left your…"

                He was gone. I glanced down at the book. It was a thin black paperback, with a blurb in gothic lettering on the back. I flipped it over. On the cover was the picture of a man in Victorian dress. Half of his face looked normal, amicable, while the other half was twisted into an evil grimace.

                Robert Louis Stevenson. _The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_.

                The house was dark except for a blob of yellow light shining through the blinds in Benny's window, and the driveway was empty. Dad was at the _Daily Bugle_, I knew, and I guess Mom had gone somewhere else. I swung in through the window and threw on some outer clothes, tossing my mask under my pillow. I opened the door to my room and peered down the hall. Where were Benny and Andrea? Shrugging inwardly, I headed for the stairs.

                "I don't know…my dad always says that's not safe…"

                I stopped. It was Benny's voice, coming from behind his closed door.

                "You mean Harry?"            

                I edged closer, leaning against the door. I heard nothing, then, "Do you…do you really think it'll…you know…"

                Silence.

                "Eight o' clock. In the evening. Okay," he said. "Okay."

                I tried the knob first. The door was unlocked. Not bothering to knock, I pushed it open. Benny sat on the edge of his bed, his legs dangling. His head was in his hands.

                "Hey," I said.

                Benny jerked upright. "What?"

                "Who were you talking to?"

                "Uh…Jim," he said. "Yeah. I'm going over to his house tomorrow."

                "Talking to Jim, huh?" I said.

                "Yeah," said Benny. "Yeah, I was."

                "Then where's the phone?"

                Benny's face flushed red. "Will you leave me alone?" he yelled. "Why are you always bugging me?"

                "Fine," I snapped. "Go ahead and lose your mind. See if I care."

                I turned and started back for my room. Suddenly Benny said, in a very different voice, "Are you…um, are you going out tomorrow?"

                "Probably," I said.

                "Stay home."

                I didn't like how bossy he was becoming at all, especially after he had just ordered me to leave him alone. "Don't tell me what to do, Benny."

                "Some sister _you_ are."

                I turned back. "What?"

                Benny slammed the door in my face. The lock clicked. Fuming, I stomped down the stairs into the den. It was empty. I went to the kitchen, wondering if I could find something to eat. The lights were off, but the kitchen table was cluttered as usual. Today's newspaper, some of Benny's Legos, and _Egypt: World of the Pharaohs_, the book Andrea had swiped from my shelf.

                _Egypt: World of the Pharaohs_.

                I stared at it. _Egypt: World of the Pharaohs._

                Why hadn't I thought of this before?              

                I snatched the heavy hardbound book laid it in the square of light coming through the window from the streetlamp. The cover photograph of King Tut's death mask glimmered. I flipped to the index. This book had always been one of my favorites, with all sorts of strange facts and photographs. I found "Glossary of Gods" and ran my finger down the page.

_                Anubis: Often mistakenly associated with Osiris, the Egyptian god of the dead, Anubis was the jackal-headed deity of embalming, burial, and other mortuary practices. Anubis guarded the gates of the Duat, the dangerous Egyptian underworld, and was therefore related to the concept of the "threshold", the fine division between life and death. Anubis was also responsible for judging the souls of the deceased…_

                "You're back late."

                My spider-sense began to prickle. I turned around. Andrea was sitting on one of the kitchen chairs, which she had dragged into the corner. Her silhouette was dimly outline by the pale light coming through the blinds. How long had she been there?

                "What are you doing?" I asked.

                "Waiting for you," she said. "What do you usually go by? I think I should ask. I don't really know much about you at all, do I?"

                I stared at her. Her voice had changed. It was lower, less affected.

                "So which is it?" Andrea leaned back in her chair. "Mayday…or Spider-Girl?"

                Something inside me turned to stone. I had heard her wrong. She had said something else, and I had misunderstood. She couldn't have said what I thought she had said. No. Not Andrea. Not…

                "Wh-what?" I forced a little, skeptical laugh. It fell flat.

                "Well?" Andrea said. "Which is it?"

                "No," I said. "You couldn't have…"

                "Just how dumb do you think I am, Mayday?" she asked. "Huh?"

                I didn't answer. I couldn't answer.    

                "If only I'd gotten today on video." Andrea narrowed her eyes. "That pylon landed on you. No one could've just walked away from that the way you did. An accident like that would have put you in a wheelchair for the rest of your life.

                "I guess that's why you don't want people to know," she continued. "The government would probably dissect you or something." She sniggered, "And wouldn't that be sad.

                "But at least you'd make a contribution to science and all. You have to like science, with all of those dorky books you read. So I guess you won't be too sad if your brain ends up in a jar in a museum."

                The shivering hate beneath these words froze me where I stood and filled my mouth with sand. The clocked ticked calmly, the cars outside rolled past the way they always did, as though nothing had changed. And nothing had, out there. It was only in here that things were wrong, only my world that was crashing down around me.  

                "Why do you hate me?" I whispered.

                "What?"

                "Why do you hate me?" I asked again. "I see you once every five years. I don't even know you. Why do you hate me? What have I ever done to you?"

                "You want a _list_?" Andrea hissed, leaning forward. "Huh? I live in Seattle. That's three thousand miles away, you know that? I bet you don't hear anything about me when I'm not here.

                "Every time your mom calls my dad, you know what I hear later? May. May, May, May. Fifth grade, May won district-wide science fair. Andrea, why don't you try something like that? Middle school, May's got a track meet coming up. Andrea, why don't you try some sports? High school, Mayday's got a chance of being in top ten! Not top ten percent, top _ten_! Andrea, shouldn't you be working on your grades? Don't you get it? Everything goes to _you_!"

                Her voice took on a high, mocking whine. "Oh, Mayday's so smart. Oh, Mayday's so pretty. Oh, Mayday's Grandma's favorite. Oh, Mayday's got parents who don't tell her to get out of their face. Her little brother's a genius and not about to get shipped to Iraq like mine. Billionaire Harry Osborn's crazy about her-"                  

                "_What?_"

                "Well, how about _this_?" The pale light glowed in her eyes. "Mayday can climb walls and shoot web out of her wrists. Mayday's in the paper almost every day. Mayday can pick up Mack trucks and go head-to-head with Ladyhawk and Hobgoblin and the rest of them. Mayday's a _freak_!" 

                She stabbed a finger at me. "Freak! You're a freak! That's what you are! Just some weird, mutated…"

                "Shut up!"

                "That's something I won't hear anymore!" Andrea said, her voice rising gleefully. "_Andrea, why can't you be more like your cousin May?_ Once this gets out…"

                Pure, absolute terror forked through my veins like lightning.

                _Once this gets out. _

                "I've got something on you now," she said. "I know who you are, Mayday. You're Spider-Girl. You. I can take that anywhere. Anywhere! TV, the papers…"

                "You wouldn't," I murmured. "You…you…"

                "Oh, wouldn't I!"

                "You _can't_!" I gasped. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't be coming apart now, not now, not after all this time…

                "You can't do this! Don't you get it? This isn't about you! It isn't about me, either! If you expose us-"

                "_Us_?"                    

                _Idiot!_ my own voice screamed in my head. _Idiot!_

                "That's it," she gasped. "That's it! Why didn't I see it before?" She clapped her hand to her forehead. "Of course! Who else could he be?"

                "No," I faltered. "No, it's not what you're thinking. It's-"

                "Uncle Pete is Spider-Man!" Andrea gaped at me in disbelief. "He _works_ for the _Daily Bugle_! Oh, man," she said, shaking her head, an ironic smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. "Oh, man."

                "You…" I stammered. "You can't tell anyone."

                "Oh, really?"

                "No one can know!" The book shook in my hands. She had to listen to me, I had to be able to reason with her… "Do you think Dad and I do this just for fun? There are people out there who…if they find out…" I added desperately, struggling to make her understand. "This isn't just some game! What do you think they'd do to Mom and Benny? Or you?"

                "Me?"

                "You think they won't find you?" I demanded in disbelief. "Who do you think I fight, Andrea? You think they work alone? You think they're not connected? You think they won't go after everyone even _remotely_ related to us? You think-"

                "You think I believe that?"

                "_I have a job to do!_"

                Andrea snorted. "If you call that a job."

                "Anubis!" I yelled. "Don't you know anything? Are you that wrapped up in yourself? Did you _see_ what he did in Central Park? And the Osborn house? You think he wasn't behind that?" What could I do to get through to her? "What do you think he's going to do if I'm not there to stop him? He…he…"

                "Think of it as a vacation," Andrea said, twirling the pencil idly. "After all, it's summer, isn't it?"

                "The cops can't handle him! No one can! He's-"

                "I always knew there was something wrong with you," Andrea interrupted. "With all of you. The way you disappear for hours. Or how your baby brother's stronger than any normal kid should be. Or how your mom always looks so worried when you walk out the door." The line of her mouth contorted savagely. "Or the way Uncle Pete shows up again after years without even a damn birthday card and your mom just lets him waltz back into your lives."

                "He didn't leave us." My voice quavered hoarsely. "It wasn't his fault."

                "Maybe," Andrea sneered. "Or maybe he just ran off with some twenty-year-old blonde."

                I squeezed the edges of the book. My fingers sank through the cover, compressing the paper. The death mask of Tutankhamen distorted, stretching as my fingers met my thumbs. I wanted to fling it at her, scream at her to take back what she had said. Nauseating rage coursed through my veins.

                "I've been doing a lot of thinking," she said. She stood up and pushed the chair under the kitchen table. It scraped over the tile. "I've come up with a few things that _might_ make me keep my mouth shut."  

                "You're…" I stammered. "You're _blackmailing_ me?"

                "I would tell you to stop being Spider-Girl, but then that could screw up some other stuff I haven't come up with yet." She tossed her hair over her shoulder. "So I'll keep you on a need-to-know basis."

                "_Are you crazy?_" I screamed. Horrific thoughts roared through my mind, fueled by a mad, sickening fury. I stood there and trembled, the book coming to shreds beneath my fingers. The binding broke with a sudden snap.

                "I think being Spider-Girl's really straining you," Andrea said. "Look how mad you are already."

                The remains of the book slipped from my hands onto the counter, unrecognizable.

                "You're not going to tell anyone that I know, Mayday," she said. "Not your dad, not your mom, not anyone. It'll just be a little secret between cousins, huh?"

                She walked to the kitchen door and paused. "Oh, and by the way," she said, turning. "I'd keep away from Harry Osborn if I were you."

                "He's…he's only my friend," I whispered. My voice wavered and died in the silence.

                "You've always been the favorite," she said. "Well, that's all going to change."

                Andrea turned and went up the stairs. There was a long quiet as her footsteps padded away down the hall, followed by the click of a closing door.


	19. Chapter Eighteen: Never There

(AN: Once again, my apologies for the long wait, and a very great thanks to Lady Suneidesis, who beta-read this chapter.)

Chapter Eighteen

I woke up with my face against a sofa cushion, my eyes gritty and my hair hanging limply over my face. I was about to close my eyes again when a voice said, "Are you feeling any better?"

"M-Mom?" I croaked. I pushed myself up into a sitting position, my head spinning. Mom was standing in the doorway, frowning worriedly. The clock on the wall beside her showed that it was nearly nine o' clock in the morning.

"You looked so exhausted I didn't want to wake you. Dad's about to leave for work," Mom said.

I mumbled something indistinct; even I wasn't sure what it was. I got unsteadily to my feet and stumbled up the stairs, gripping the banister like a life preserver. I went to the bathroom sink and splashed a handful of water on my face before. I blinked the water out of my eyes and looked up, dripping, into the mirror. My eyes were shadowed and seemed huge in my face.

_Please let it be a dream_, I thought. _That was all it was, wasn't it?_

I went into my room. It was just as I'd left it, practically untouched. Normal. Everything looked the way it should. I squeezed my eyes shut. Maybe none of it had been real.

I looked up just in time to see Andrea pass by the door and wave her fingers, her face set in a vulpine smirk.

My legs simply gave way and deposited me on the bed. I leaned over and put my head in my hands. It had happened. Andrea knew. She knew everything. I wanted to curl up in a corner and never move again. Why was this happening now? How could this be happening now?

I went downstairs in a daze and sat down somewhere. Once I heard Mom asking me if I felt like eggs or hash browns. A few minutes later, Dad, who was doing something with the coffee machine, made some noncommittal comment about overwork. Nothing else.

Throughout the rest of the morning I watched in bewilderment as my family ate breakfast, squabbled good-naturedly over who got to read the comics section first and a dozen other little things. Even though Dad looked a little worn he managed to look reasonably cheerful as soon as Andrea appeared downstairs.

How could they treat this like any other day? How could they not tell that something was wrong?

After a while Benny retreated to his room and Mom to the den with her laptop to balance some accounts. I sat down at the table and stared blankly at the wall. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Andrea in the living room, fiddling with what I saw was our video camera. I tensed. What was she doing with that? Why did she have it now?

Every nerve in my body seemed to crackle like a net of severed power lines. I nearly sprang to the ceiling when Dad came in. He set his coffee cup down on the counter and opened his mouth to say something, but he must have caught the look on my face. "Mayday? What's wrong?"

Behind his back in the living room, Andrea looked up from the video camera.

I closed my mouth. Dad watched me for a moment, then abruptly turning around, but Andrea had already dropped her head. "N-nothing," I said as he turned back. Dad frowned. I stared at the table.

He left for the _Daily Bugle_ half an hour later. Around ten o' clock Mom left, although she insisted on taking my temperature and dozing me with aspirin before she went. Andrea went into the den and turned on the television. I watched from the kitchen. The news was on, displaying continuing coverage of the assault on the Osborn house. Beth McKay had been released from the hospital and was now in witness protection, along with her nephew Harry. Sources reported that they were going into temporary hiding.

Andrea turned around to look over the back of the arm chair at me. "Yeah," she said, "but I'm sure he'll keep dropping by to see _you_."

I didn't answer. I got up, went out the back door, shut it behind me, and sat down on the porch. I couldn't share a house with her; I didn't want to share a planet with her.

By four o' clock in the afternoon I couldn't stand it anymore. I had to get out of there. I checked to make sure that Benny was still in his room and that Andrea was still in mine, probably going through my things. I felt a moment of fear that subsided into nervous relief; my spare costume wasn't anywhere she could find it, and I'd hidden Harry's device under a stack of papers in the bottom drawer of Mom's desk. I uncovered it, stowed my outer clothes under the porch, then raced for Manhattan as Spider-Girl.

Ten minutes later I was atop the railing on the roof of the Guggenheim Museum, gazing dully through the skylight. The white galleries curved around like spirals on a snail. I sat on the ledge, fiddling unfeelingly with Harry's device, watching the people below turn into little red blobs of heat in the liquid screen. Webswinging hadn't made anything go away. All that I had fled followed me here, and would follow me everywhere. A violent shiver rippled through me.

It would follow me for the rest of my life.

A sudden bang made me jump and stiffen, but my spider-sense registered no danger. I turned my head and saw a chubby man coming from a door set in a little metal shack on the roof, built over stairs that doubtlessly lead down into the museum. He seemed about thirty, wearing the uniform of a gallery attendant, lighting a cigarette as he kicked the door shut behind him. "Oh…uh…" he stammered as he saw me. "Uh…sorry to bother you."

"No problem," I mumbled. I turned back to the street.

The man stood there for a long moment, the unused cigarette still smoking in his hand. I stared at a row of parked cars below, wondering why he wasn't going away.

"You…uh…" he said. "You the real Spider-Girl?"

I sighed. "Yeah," I said. "That's me."

There was silence for a moment. A pair of hotdog vendors on the curb below erupted into a loud argument in Russian.

"You saved my kid brother," said the man. "You pulled him out of his car in that pile-up in Corona." He scuffed his shoe against the roof. "Few months ago."

I didn't know what to say; it didn't seem like he did, either. He looked down. "So…uh…" He shifted his feet. "Thanks." He looked up again and shrugged awkwardly. "Means a lot to me."

I nodded. The man fidgeted. "So…" He coughed. "See you around."

"See you," I said.

He smashed the cigarette against the railing and headed back for the door; I guessed I made him to nervous to smoke in peace. I shot a webline at the building across the street and swung to the roof of the old apartment complex overshadowing the museum.

If Andrea decided to use her information there wouldn't be anymore Spider-Girl.

I wrapped my arms around my knees and rested my head on my forearms. Chilling pictures whirled through my mind. Headlines exploding in black ink, names, pictures, interviews splattered over pages of newsprint. Reporters. FBI agents taping off our house. Mom and Benny shoved in front of cameras. I could see police banging on Grandma's door, reporters shoving microphones in her face. Dad and I…

What had Andrea said? _The government would probably dissect you or something_.

I shuddered.

And what about Harry? They would get it out of us somehow, who he had once been. Harry would be arrested for the crimes of Hobgoblin, imprisoned, maybe for life. The ugly secrets of the Osborn family would be ripped open for all to see.

Mom would lose her job. Benny's future would be wrecked before it even began. My elderly grandmother would be harassed on her way out the door. Their lives would never be normal again. They would be exposed, unprotected, every movement microscopically scrutinized.

Nacht would be found, found and subjected to the same fate as Dad's and mine, if not worse. Doc would be interrogated, his career as a physician destroyed. Beth McKay's social work would be ruined, her name slandered for having raised a nephew who had become a public menace.

Another thought made me want to burst out into hysterical giggles. J. Jonah Jameson. I could only imagine him being thrust in front of a news camera and asked, "So, exactly _how_ long did Spider-Man work for you?"

How could Andrea Watson not realize how many lives she would devastate?

A pigeon landed on the ledge and stared at me. "Go away," I snapped. I shooed it off and winced; my muscles still aching from the pylon and the wracking my they had endured during the fight at the Osborn house. A news helicopter whirred past a hundred feet over my head.

I dropped my head onto my arms again. So Harry and his aunt were going into hiding. That made sense; whoever had tried to kill Beth McKay would possibly try again. It would be hard for them to escape their pursuer, especially if it was tied in with Anubis, as the lead assassin had mentioned on the roof.

I pinched the bridge of my nose through my mask. Assassins. Anubis. Friedmann, the guard-turned-killer.

Why had they attacked the Osborn house? Would someone go through all of that trouble just to gain control of Harry's inheritance? How could that ever work? Even if Beth McKay had been killed and Harry framed for murder, it would have meant months or even years of legal proceedings before the culprit got a penny of it; more than enough time for a team of lawyers to uncover something suspicious. Yet whoever it was hadn't wanted Harry dead. In my mind's eye I remembered how furious the leader of the assassins had been when he believed that one of his underlings had killed Harry.

Harry was a minor. If his legal guardian died he would be given to the care of the state until he turned eighteen. If the guards had succeeded he would have spent the time between now and then in jail. Just another number, one face out of many, hidden from the public and everyone else.

But they hadn't wanted him dead…

I sat up straight.

Whoever had ordered the attack on the Osborn mansion hadn't wanted money. They had wanted Harry.

I chewed on my lower lip, frowning hard behind my mask. Why would someone want Harry? Ransom? Blackmail? Control of Quest Aerospace, which Harry was destined to inherit?

Quest Aerospace, which had once been OsCorp. Ladyhawk. Ladyhawk, created by OsCorp. A bullet manufactured by Quest Aerospace…which had once been OsCorp.

_Someone put a lot of time and money into this._

This was connected to what had happened at the rig; Friedmann was the proof of that. Who had lead the operation at the rig? Black Widow. What had Black Widow wanted above all else? A performance enhancer. A performance enhancer created by OsCorp.

The assassin, Friedmann, who had once been another lowly guard on a drilling rig miles out in the Atlantic. Once under the command of Black Widow, now under the command of Anubis.

Connected. It was all connected.

_ Sir! What are you doing here?_

_ It's just Osborn, Friedmann!_

Friedmann had mistaken Harry for someone else. But who? How could anyone possibly mistake Hobgoblin for anyone else?

Who was heading the operation? It couldn't be Anubis; why would the leader of something so huge get his hands dirty dealing with assassins? Or us?

The person who had wanted the OsCorp performance enhancer…and Harry Osborn.

Another thought darted through my mind, but I dismissed it immediately. That was crazy.

But it was there, falling into place but still incomplete, like a jigsaw puzzle with one piece missing. But the piece that fit perfectly, that completed the picture, could not be right. It was impossible. Insane.

But…

I leaned over the roof and let myself drop, webslinging when I was barely ten feet above the ground and arcing back into the skyscrapers. Steel walls and glass windows became a silvery blur around me as I took off down the street. Evening sunlight reflected off the murky brown ribbon of the distant Hudson River.

I had to know.

I skirted Central Park, flew over the Museum of Natural History and bounced across a flat section of small-time shops and restaurants before I saw it. I hadn't needed to visit this place for years, but it was easily recognizable from its greenness. Aside from a collection of scattered parks grass was rare in Manhattan. The wrought-iron sign above the entrance read _Rest Haven Cemetery._

I swung over the gate and landed on the grass. A strange orange hue pervaded the grass. The sun was starting to go down. The central hill, studded with squat gray headstones reminded me of the jaw of a shark, with row upon row of snaggled teeth.

Columns of pale gray tombstones headed neatly-trimmed plots. In the dusky light the colors of the stones and grass mixed and muddied into a bruised, gangrenous swirl. I spun in a circle, scanning the granite slabs frantically, until my eyes snagged on what I had been looking for. I bounded over a row of graves towards it: one headstone, alone on one side of the grassy slope, beside a scraggly tree that withered with some unknown disease.

NORMAN OSBORN

_Beloved Friend and Father_

May 16, 1950-November 30, 1995

I stopped. What was I thinking? This was wrong. Ghoulish.

But I couldn't let it go. I couldn't pretend that it was crazy any longer. I raised Harry's device. It contained an X-ray, as Harry had demonstrated. The betatron produced short-wave X-rays that could see through a concrete wall…and six feet of soil.

I flipped in on. The screen showed what was directly below it, well-manicured turf. My throat constricting, I reached out, positioned it over the grave, and pressed the button.

The grass disappeared. The screen darkened for a moment, then displayed the fuzzy outline of a metal coffin. But inside it was nothing but black space.

Nothing. There was nothing there.

The grave of Norman Osborn was empty.

A buzz began in the distance and rose in volume, nearing. The pervading jet-like hum of a glider.

I squeezed my eyes shut behind my mask. Harry's device rattled in my hands. It couldn't be. It couldn't be. It wasn't real.

"Is that you?" called a voice, from somewhere high above.

The hum dampened and neared. I opened my eyes and saw an armored figure crouching on a bat-shaped glider that glowed with an eerie sheen. An orange-streaked mask with shining yellow eyes slowly looked from me to the grave and said in a very different voice, "What are you doing here?"

Harry. Harry. It was Harry.

"I…" I stammered. "I…"

Harry interrupted, "Forget it! I was looking for you!" He vaulted off the glider and ran towards me.

"Harry…" My throat clenched. "There's something I have to tell-"

Harry didn't give me a chance to finish. "That satellite I was talking about? There are two of them! There's another one in orbit over New York!" He pulled off his helmet, revealing a face gray with anxiety, and said four words that pulled what was left of my world to pieces.

"It's on your house!"

A lump of ice settled in my chest.

"I checked it over and over again. This is correct. Those things can pick up blades of grass, Mayday! It's been watching your house for weeks!"

I stared at the headstone, memorizing every groove and furrow. No. No. This wasn't real. None of this was really happening. It was all a dream. I was asleep. This couldn't really be happening…

"Mayday, don't you understand?" Harry grabbed me by the shoulders and spun me around to face him. His face was the color of paste. "_They know who you are!_"

"What…what time is it?" I asked.

"Are you listening to me? They-"

"_What time is it?_" I yelled.

Harry snatched the scanner and punched three keys. "Here!"

A tiny transparent window had appeared at the corner of the screen. 7:52 glowed green in digital numbers.

_Eight o' clock in the evening. Okay. Okay. _

Benny, not on the phone with Jim or anyone. Talking to the air. No, not the air. Talking to a voice that spoke only in his head.

_There's one on your house!_

_They know who you are!_

As I watched, the number changed.

7:53.

I pulled away and ran, ignoring Harry's voice calling something behind me, my mind filled only with the knowledge that I had seven minutes to cross Manhattan Island and half of Queens.

I bounded into the air and swung. In my mind Harry murmured faintly, _I'd end up in jail. Since I'm legally a minor, they'd make me a ward of the state. I'd disappear into the system._

I hurtled over an office building and shot a webline to the top of the Woolworth Tower. The swing flung me into the sky. I soared over a city block before my fall started, webslinging like a machine. I chanced a look over my shoulder. I couldn't see Harry anywhere.

7:54.

I tore over the fire station and jerked myself to a halt in time to careen down the avenue to the left. My shoulder wrenched in its socket. The bridge. I could barely make out its shape from here, three-quarters of a mile at most…

_Keep it down, will you, Friedmann?_ growled an assassin.

7:55.

The East River, brown and murky, with a flat barge chugging slowly south towards the bay. I could see it. The shadow of the Empire State Building threw a jagged slash over the buildings before me like an open wound.

_ That's all going to change_, Andrea whispered.__

7:56.

_ Now it is the time of night…_

7:57.

_That the graves, all gaping wide…_

7:58.

_ Each of them lets forth his sprite…_

7:59.

_ In the churchway paths to glide…_

The East River. The bridge. I tore over the highway and swung out over the bridge. I was almost home. I was almost-

The sound hit me like a physical blow. A mind-numbing screech filled the sky, the air. I missed my swing and tumbled down into the suspension. I threw out my hand in time to grab one of the steel cables, dangling barely thirty feet above the mess of traffic below. I saw windshields exploding and cars rear-ending each other as flashes of red burst in my vision and knives pierced my eardrums and pounded into my brain.

The sound faded, melted into words. "Someone's in a hurry."

A shadow fell over the pavement below, a shadow with wings.

"Ladyhawk," I gasped. "No. You-…_aaaaaarrrggh!_"

The petrifying screech hit me again. I lost my grip. The river rushed at me like something alive. I couldn't swing, couldn't even think…

Talons sank into my shoulder. I strangled a scream. Car alarms and shouts echoed over the bridge as Ladyhawk dragged me up over the supports until I was looking straight into her bird-masked face, watching her mouth twist into a cruel, feral grin. "I told you to watch your back," she said. "I told you I'd stop you from interfering with me." She raised her talons. "When you least expected it."

My senses and my terror returned in a rush. "_Let go of me!_"

I pulled back my fist and slammed it into her face, once, twice, three times. Her grip faltered. I tore her hand from my throat and shoved her away, off the bridge, then leaped into the cables. I heard a faint splash but didn't look back.

I slid down the cabling and jumped, landing shakily on the edge of a concrete overpass. I sprinted across the lanes, twisting and dodging around cars and trucks. Horns blared in my ears. I threw myself over the railing and swung, the punctures in my shoulder searing as though a fistful of matches were being jabbed into my skin. Streets and townhouses whizzed below me in a blur and were gone just as quickly. My house. I could see it. I was almost there. I was almost…

In the middle of a swing I looked down at my left hand; somehow I had kept my grip on Harry's device.

The screen read 8:05.

I dropped the last webline and stumbled onto the grass, air wheezing from my lungs, rivulets of blood streaming down my arm.

The sun wouldn't set until nearly nine o' clock, and even now the entire yard was bathed in coppery sunlight. In the middle of the house, at the top of the steps was a spot of darkness. The back door hung open, unattended, gaping like an empty eye.

A gust of smoggy wind from the west fanned the sycamore tree, making its papery leaves rustle like the whispering of a thousand unseen watchers. The screen door banged against the threshold. The spindly branches waved and creaked, their shadows morphing into bony fingers that crept towards the open door.

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

I reached out. My fingers shook epileptically as I caught the knob. The wind whistled through the screen, and behind it was only dimness. I couldn't have said how long I stood there, holding the handle, my mind blank, my muscles frozen. It may have been a few seconds, or years. I didn't know. An interminable time passed before I tightened my grip, opened the door, and stepped inside.

The kitchen had been razed. The table was overturned in the corner and huge cracks split the plaster and wallpaper. Shattered glass was strewn over the tile amidst the ruins of two wooden chairs. Cabinets hung open. Ceramic plates were ground to powder on the floor. The blinds on the kitchen window had been torn down and lay in a tangled heap on the sill. A fly buzzed against the glass.

My breathing was loud in the tomblike hush. A single movement caught my eye, a flash. I slowly turned around. Lying on the island, bizarrely untouched under a broken cabinet door, was Andrea's digital video camera. On its side a small red light blinked on and off.

Recording. Andrea had been recording something.

I gripped the camera and pulled it from beneath the wreckage. My fingers moved on their own, pressing buttons I didn't see. The camera rewound for a few seconds then buzzed to a stop; the clip was only a few minutes long. The screen flickered. A wavery line crept across the small liquid screen and disappeared as it reached the bottom.

Disjointed scenes flashed across the screen. A brief shot of my room, then the hall, then the den. Finally the screen settled on a single recording: the kitchen, whole, undisturbed.

Dad, looking drained from the day's work, was sitting at the table, reading the _New York Times_. Mom was next to him, her hair pinned messily behind her head, tapping away at her laptop. Dad looked up and raised an eyebrow at the camera. "What's that for?" he said.

"Just testing to see if it like, works all right," came Andrea's voice. Dad nodded affably and returned to his paper. The camera shifted, panning slowly over the room, everything maddeningly normal. Benny was not there.

The camera returned to the table, but this time something was different. Dad had lowered the paper and was staring into space, as if he were listening intensely to something only he could hear. He lowered the paper.

"Something's wrong."

Mom looked up from her work. "Peter?"

Through the speakers I thought I heard faint footsteps crunching over the grass. Dad bounded to his feet. His chair fell over behind him with a crash. "What the…" Andrea's voice murmured.

The back doorbell rang. It sounded through the house and faded into thick, heavy silence.

Andrea's camera swung around to face the door as Dad whispered, "Everyone get to the front and run for the car. Now. Now!"

"No, Dad!" Benny ran into view, his face white, gleaming with alien enthusiasm. "It's okay! I know what's happening! It's okay!" He rushed for the door, hand outstretched for the knob.

"No!"

Dad raised his hand to websling just as my little brother turned the knob and tugged the back door open.

Andrea screamed. The camera dropped to the table with a dizzying jolt, still trained on the door as at least twenty of the black-helmeted assassins of the Osborn mansion poured over the threshold like a swarm of hard-shelled ants. Mom gasped in horror and leapt away from the table as the line of soldiers parted and another shape appeared in the door, taller, broader, a statue sheathed in golden armor. Two giant curved sickles dangled from its elaborate belt, and, rising from its shoulders, was the carved head of a jackal.

Dad shot a webline that connected with the back of Benny's shirt, pulling him away. He pushed him towards Mom. "Get behind me!"

Anubis stepped into the house, hideously incompatible with his mundane surroundings. With the drill-like precision of long practice, the assassins marched to form a line behind him.

"Peter Parker," said the jackal head.

"No…" Dad murmured. "How…how could you have…"

"You may thank your son for my visit," said the flat, horrible voice, devoid of cadence or any other mark of humanity. "He has been highly useful to me."

Anubis's jackal head jerked. The line of black-clad assassins began to advance.

Two lines of webbing splattered against the legs of the kitchen table. Dad wheeled his arms and flipped it into the air, hurling it against three of the soldiers and sending them to the floor in a heap. Not one of them made a sound. "MJ! Take the kids and run! _Run!_"

Mom snatched Andrea's hand and reached for Benny, but two black-clads blocked her way, advancing with guns drawn. Mom shoved Andrea behind her, snatched a folding chair from the corner and swung it at the first assassin. It glanced off his chest. He didn't even flinch.

Benny backed into the corner, sobbing. "This wasn't supposed to happen!" he screamed. "_This wasn't supposed to happen!_"

Dad webbed another assassin flat on the floor and twisted around to duck a blow from the butt of a gun. Two soldiers advanced on Mom and Andrea. Mom grabbed a skillet from the island and hurled it into the first black-clad's helmeted face. He staggered. The second kept coming. "Run, Benny!" Mom screamed, pushing Andrea behind her. "Get away!"

Benny staggered back, towards the hall, choking on his sobs, until his eyes fell on Anubis. He froze, unmoving amidst the chaos, his pale face a mask of betrayal.

"You tricked me," he whispered. "I thought you were my friend…"

"Benny, run!" Mom cried, backing further away, keeping herself between the black-clads and my cousin as they herded them into the corner with the barrels of their guns. The camera jumped again, revealing a glimpse of Dad moving at speeds I could barely imagine, trading blows with at least seven black-clads. As soon as one collapsed, three more rushed at him. They were everywhere. Everywhere!

And towering over all, untouched by the confusion, was Anubis, arms at his sides, as impassive as an obelisk, until the jackal head tilted down and the blank, burnished eyes fixed on the weeping form of my brother.

Anubis crooked a finger at Benny. "Come here."

Benny's tears stopped. His hands fell from his face. Slowly at first, then faster, he began to cross the room with stilted, robotic steps. Dad webbed three soldiers together and swung them into their companions. Four more leapt at him.

"Benny." Mom's voice was numb with fear. "Benny, what are you doing?"

Benny made no sign that he had heard her. There was a loud crash from out of sight. The camera jolted on the island.

"Benny, no!"

Six feet away, five, four. Benny did not stop.

"_Benny!_"

Dad flung off a soldier and rushed across the room, bruised, bleeding, charging for his son, arms outstretched to pull him away from the creature beckoning him. But Benny was too far away.

Anubis seized his shoulder, spun him around and held a sickle to his throat. "One step closer and your son dies, Spider-Man."

Dad froze, his fists clenched, shaking with tension. There was a chorus of clicks as the sights of twenty automatic weapons trained on his head. Benny's face was expressionless. His eyes were glazed. There was no one looking out from behind them.

"What did you do to him?" Dad asked softly. His voice strengthening in a paroxysm of anguish, he cried, "_What did you do to him?_"

"Now you see where your son's true loyalty lies," Anubis droned. "Your thoughts are open to me, Spider-Man. Should you even _consider_ using those abilities of yours against me…" His fingers tightened on Benny's shoulder. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of Dad's face.

"You do not believe me?" Anubis jerked Benny brutally. "You do not believe that I would harm a child?" A mailed hand grasped Benny's hair and pulled his head back. The sunlight slid along the sickle's blade. "Then make a move."

Four assassins grabbed Mom and Andrea and twisted their arms behind their backs. Andrea's sobs were loud.

"No…" Dad began. "Get your-"

"Peter! Please!" Mom begged, "Don't!"

The desperation in her voice was a knife plunged into my ribs and twisted. All of our fears had boiled out of the cracks and crevasses of our minds into monstrous reality. There was nothing but a deadly hush, a consuming, awful quiet.

In one smooth motion, Anubis shoved Benny into the hands of the black-clad soldiers and thrust an open hand at Dad's face.

Dad's head snapped back as though he had been struck. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he wavered, staggered, crumpled brokenly to the floor, and lay still.

"Peter!"

Footsteps thudded over the floor. Helmeted soldiers grabbed Dad's limp arms and dragged him up, out of sight. Something struck the island, spinning the camera around to face nothing but a blank wall.

Footsteps, clatterings, a strange, mechanized humming. I heard it all, but at the same time I heard no sound but my mother's scream.

"Peter! _Peter!_"

A greenish flash lit the wall and faded.

Silence.

Silence.

I dropped the camera. It crashed to the floor and emitted a feeble whirr before its flickering light died.

No. This couldn't be real. They were still here somewhere, they had to be. _They had to be!_

I pushed myself away from the island and ran, racing over the wreckage of the kitchen and through the rest of the ground floor. The den, empty. The hall, empty. The living room, empty.

I charged up the stairs and down the hall, ripping doors open so violently that their hinges squealed and bent. Rooms, closets, all empty, empty, empty. All untouched, except for the last, where a long brass dagger was embedded in the door of my room, thrust through a folded piece of papyrus.

I gripped the handle of the dagger and pulled it from the wood of the door, unfolding the note, my fingers fumbling, my mind in a fog. A chip of something flat and metallic slid out and fell. I ignored it.

_Miss Parker-_

_ The sun sets in the land of the dead, and the crocodile guards the first of the double crown. _

_ Your family and myself strongly desire the pleasure of your company._

_ Regards,_

_ A _

The dagger clattered to the floor. The paper floated quietly down beside it.

"Mayday?"

Somehow I turned and saw Harry at the top of the stairs. He opened his mouth as if to form a word, a question, but nothing came out.

I began to walk, then run, then sprint down the hall, rushing up the attic stairs. I threw open the door and kept going, crashing through the attic window and into the sky, swinging, slinging, bounding, leaping, but most of all running, running from what I knew to be true but couldn't admit, couldn't stand to accept. A glider revved to life in the distance, a voice shouted my name. I didn't stop.

They were gone. They were gone. They had been taken, and I wasn't there. I was there to save Harry, Nacht, even Ladyhawk, I was there to pull people from wrecks, fires, floods. I could be there in seconds, taking risks I could only imagine to ensure the safety of those in danger.

But when it came to them, when it came to what mattered most, who I would have given my life a thousand times over to save, _I was never there!_

I sped over Queens in a direction I couldn't tell, over townhouses, apartments, shops, schools. The docks suddenly spread before me, a mess of warehouses and eighteen-wheelers and oblivious people going about their daily lives, about to leave for a house, to a family, somewhere to call home, not a place of devastation.

My fingers slipped on the webline and I fell, tumbling and skidding across the rasping gravel of a warehouse roof. I clawed at the concrete railing, dragging myself to my feet. The East River shone red in the last light of the sun.

"Anubis!" I screamed.

The roar of a jet sounded in my ears. A gloved hand grabbed my shoulder. "Stop! Mayday, listen to me!"

I wrenched free and grabbed the concrete railing of the roof, sobs and gasps leaking through my teeth along with a ragged cry that welled in my chest before tearing itself from my mouth and exploding in the smothering air.

"Anubis!"

I tore my mask from my face, stared straight into that gruesome, bleeding dusk, and screamed.

"_Anubis!_"

I dropped from the roof and ran, blindly, heading anywhere, nowhere, only away. Away, away, away.

"Mayday, no! Stop! _Mayday!_"

I just ran.


	20. Chapter Nineteen: Midnight

A/N: Happy Holidays, and my most sincere apologies for the ridiculously long hiatus.

Chapter Nineteen

There was noise, a distant clattering that rose to a metallic howl and pounded nails into my eardrums with each clang. It roared past and faded away into nothing. In the silence, water dripped. Rat paws skittered past. A bare wormy tail slithered through a crack and vanished.

_This wasn't supposed to happen!_

It was dark. The air was damp and smelled like exhaust and concrete dust. Footsteps echoed from somewhere far away, but the dripping water drowned them out, steady like the ticking of a clock, or a mocking chant. _Too. Late. Too. Late. Too. Late._

My mind was blank and dead, an empty space holding nothing but echoes.

_What did you do to him? What did you do to him?_

My lungs ached every time I took a breath. Pain pierced my shoulder and my sleeve was stiff with dried blood. The pain throbbed, coming and going with each beat of my heart, and I wished it would stop.

_Peter!_

Soft, padding footsteps. A shadow knelt down in front of me. Air hissed between teeth. A gasp.

"Mayday?"

I didn't move. It was only another echo, another dream.

The shadow reached out and touched my face. "This is not hell, Mayday," it whispered.

The shadow leaned over me. A pair of three-fingered hands settled on my shoulders.

_Bamf!_

* * *

Everything was dark. 

I wondered if I was dead.

* * *

When I opened my eyes again, I saw the back of a couch, and ceiling beyond it. I shifted and felt something clinging to my forearm, and when I looked down I saw a strip of medical tape over a cotton wad. My eyes traveled up a thin transparent tube and stopped when they reached the clear bag, suspended from a metal stand. It was an IV. 

Something moved beside me. I lowered my gaze and saw the back of a tousled head leaning against the edge of the sofa.

"Ha-…" My voice was a croak. "H-Harry…?"

He was sitting on the floor with his back against the sofa, and as he turned I saw his face, lined and worn and brightening with exhausted relief. "You're awake," he said.

I felt like my throat was stuffed with cotton. "Wh-…" I choked. "Where…"

"You're…" Harry yawned. "…In sub-level two. It's a floor below the basement of my house." He scrubbed the back of his hand over his eyes. "You're safe here. No one else knows these rooms exist."

"But…but…" I couldn't speak.

"Wagner," Harry said. "He found you in one of the abandoned subway tunnels."

"Wagner?" I croaked. "N-…Nacht?"

"Yeah." Harry stifled another yawn. "And Doc just left. He gave you another dose of antibiotics. He'll be back in the morning."

"Doc?" My voice broke. "How…" I tried again. "How long've I…how long has it been since…"

"Three days." This time his voice contained more than a hint of reproach. "You were on the verge of double pneumonia."

My voice was dead. "I don't care."

Harry's fingers dug into my arm. "You could have died!"

"I don't care." I turned my face away. "I don't care, I don't care, I don't care."

"Mayday—"

The words burst from my throat in a scream. _"Leave me alone!"_

Harry jerked back. I shut my eyes. All I wanted was to sink back into unconsciousness, where I wouldn't have to think.

Wouldn't have to remember.

"Hello?" said a voice.

I opened my eyes again.

Standing in the doorway across the room was Nacht. "_Grüss dich_," he said, waving slightly. "How feel you?"

I couldn't answer. Nacht lowered his hand. "I know what happen," he said quietly. "Is horrible."

I looked down, but then another thought hit me. "My grandmother," I gasped. "Where's my grandmother? She—"

"She's fine," Harry said. "As far as I can tell she doesn't know anything's wrong." He sighed. "And Aunt Beth's still in the hospital, so she won't be worrying. I'll have Wells cover for me."

He looked up again. "I almost forgot. I've got to show you this."

He stood up and crossed the room, and I finally saw where I was. The entire place looked like a large living room, with couches and armchairs, and in the corner I saw a small kitchen. Another wall was entirely covered with screens and computer equipment, and just beside it was a metal desk covered with what seemed like a hundred tiny metal gadgets.

Harry took something from one of the desk drawers and came back. "This." He held out his hand. A tiny golden circle rested on his fingertips.

It took me a moment to recognize what it was, and when I did I felt nausea rising up to choke me. "It was in the note," I managed. "A chip, or something…"

"It's not a chip." Harry flipped it into the palm of his hand and closed his fingers. "It's a key."

He got up and went back to the desk. He rummaged through the gadgets on top of it and came back with a metal cylinder the size of a pocket flashlight. "Watch."

He clicked a button on the cylinder and a beam of green light shot out. He held the chip inside the beam, and I saw a grid of gold threads flash across its surface.

"See those lines?" Harry said. "They make up an electronic pattern. I'm almost positive that it's quantum based." He clicked off the light.

I stared at him dully. Harry sighed. "Come on, Mayday, you know about this," he said. "Quantum computers are the most powerful computers in existence. Remember the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle? At any given time a single electron passes through every possible point in the electron cloud surrounding its atomic nucleus. If a computer works on that same subatomic level, it can simultaneously examine all possible answers to a query. A quantum computer like that can store massive amounts of information. Enough information and enough energy to..."

Harry stopped.

"To what?" I said.

Harry turned to look at Nacht. "When you teleport," he said. "How do you do it?"

Nacht raised his eyebrows, blinking. I had a feeling no one had ever asked him that before. "It…it is all here," he said, tapping the side of his head. "I think about where I want to go, then I am there. I know not how." He shrugged. "I see another place. _Es gibt viel_…sorry. There is very dark, cold, much fog. But I only there a moment, then I come out where I want to be."

"Some kind of dimensional jump," Harry murmured. "But with you it's an innate ability."

Nacht shrugged, looking faintly embarrassed. Harry's words echoed in my head. Quantum computers. I'd heard about the theory, about creating unimaginably powerful computers that could process tremendous amounts of information.

Enough information…to be able to break something down to a subatomic level and then reconstruct it exactly…

_Some kind of dimensional jump…_

Flashes of green light. Vanishing into thin air.

"Enough information and energy to teleport," I whispered. "That's how he took them."

Harry nodded. "Yes." He stared down at the chip. A biting smile cracked his face. "Once again demonstrating the varied applications of OsCorp technology."

"OsCorp?"

"Who else do you think could have created this?" Harry folded his hand over the chip. "In other words, it's a key. We just have to find out which door it fits."

"A door?" I repeated. "A door to what?"

Harry shook his head slowly. "Anubis is leading us somewhere," he said. "He wants us to follow him. And…" He raised his eyes. "And I think I might have found another person who can help us."

"Who?" I asked. "Doc?"

"No." Harry looked away. "You know the old quarantine hospital on Roosevelt Island?" he said. "We're supposed to meet there. Tonight, at midnight."

"Midnight. Of course," I said tonelessly.

Harry shifted from foot to foot and finally jerked his thumb towards a door in the far corner of the room. "There's, um, a shower and stuff over there. I got some clothes and a spare costume from your house, when I went to close up." He ran his fingers through his hair. "So, uh…I guess I'll check on the security."

He went back to the wall of computers, and I sat up and pushed off the covers. I was wearing a patterned hospital gown. I reached for my forearm, took off the tape and cotton, and pulled the needle out of my arm.

I stood up and went to the door that Harry had pointed to. Behind it was a small, brightly-lit bathroom and shower. I stopped in front of the mirror, but the person looking back wasn't me. It was a pale and gaunt, with a hollow face and shadowed eyes.

The night was sweltering, even with the breeze from the river. I shot a webline at the roof of a marina and launched myself out over the water. Roosevelt Island loomed up in front of me. I could see the old quarantine hospital as I hurtled towards it, an ancient ruin of crumbling brick walls.

I flipped over the edge of the roof and plunged feetfirst into the darkness below. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, and when they did I could see just how destroyed this building was. Dim beams of moonlight dripped down through bare rafters, dotting the cracked concrete floor in rough patches. Grass and weeds snaked up through the cracks in the stones. The walls were so shattered it looked like a wrecking ball had crashed through them, and here and there the concrete was blackened and charred, as if through explosions.

I felt a chill. This wasn't normal decay. Something had happened here.

Something flashed in the corner of my eye. I turned. Something gleamed on the ground where one wall met the floor, beneath two deep gouges in the stone.

I reached down and picked it up. It was a metal shard, almost like a piece of a blade. One end were jagged, as if it had been snapped off something larger, and in the dimness I could barely make out red-brown streaks and splashes caked on its surface.

It wasn't rust.

I dropped the shard and stumbled backwards. My heartbeat roared in my ears. I had to get out of here. I had to—

_Bamf!_

I whirled. Nacht blinked back at me. "Sorry," he said. "I mean not you to scare."

Something hummed above me and a second later Harry dropped down through the roof and landed in a crouch. His glider drifted down after him and began to compact itself. Harry plucked it out of the air and stowed it in a slot in his gauntlet. "I saw her. She's on her way. Should be here in a few seconds."

My spider-sense tingled warningly. A shadow passed over a gap in the crumbling roof. I heard something land just beyond the wall. Footsteps. Then the shadow appeared again, at the threshold of a crumbling door. Two huge eyes glittered through a mask, below a mane of feathers. And from its shoulders rose two giant wings.

It was Ladyhawk.

"You," I whispered. Rage surged up inside me like lava. "_You!_"

Ladyhawk took a step back. "It's your fault!" I yelled. My hands balled into fists. "You stopped me! It's your fault! _It's your fault!_"

"I know."

I froze. The two words were like cold water thrown over me. There was no malice in them. It was a robotic statement of fact.

And then I realized.

"_Her_?" I whirled on Harry. "You told _her_? _She's_ the one who—"

"Yeah," Harry said.

Then he reached up and pulled off his helmet.

I gasped aloud. What was he _thinking?_

Ladyhawk stared at him. She raised a claw and pointed. "You…you're…"

"Yeah. Harry Osborn," Harry said. "I'm trusting you here, so the least you could do is hear us out."

Ladyhawk narrowed her eyes. After a long moment, she said, "I'll hear you out, but that's all I'll do." Her eyes flickered to me and her glare deepened. "Even though I don't know what you expect me to do about any of this."

I glared back at her, even though I knew she couldn't see it. But I wasn't taking off my mask.

"All right," I said. "I'll play along. Just…just call me Mayday."

Ladyhawk snorted. "'Mayday'?"

"At least someone bothered to give me a name," I said.

Any trace of remorse vanished from Ladyhawk's face as though it had been wiped away. A low hiss seethed from between her teeth and the feathers covering her scalp stiffened like the fur of a startled cat. "You—"

"Stop!" a voice barked.

Ladyhawk froze, and so did I. Nacht glared at us, his tail thrashing behind him. "Stop," he said. "You both. Are you here to fight or listen?"

Ladyhawk snorted and shot me another poisonous look. Harry spoke up. "All right, look," he said. "You all know what happened to Mayday's family. But Anubis left this behind." He opened his hand. Something gleamed on his gloved palm. It was the key. "He wants Mayday to follow his lead. And I think the first step is Quest Aerospace." The ghost of a smile flickered across his face. "I hacked into the CIA satellite array and did a scan of the Quest Aerospace building. Its electromagnetic field intensity is off the charts. And get this." He held up the chip. "The signature matches."

Ladyhawk shook her head. "It's a trap."

I looked at her blankly.

"Isn't it obvious?" Ladyhawk sneered. "He's using them as bait. He wants you, not them. And look at you." She waved a hand disdainfully at me. "You're ready to play right into his hands."

"But why would he want me?" I murmured. Anubis could have captured me a thousand times. Why go through the trouble of luring me somewhere when he could make me do whatever he wanted?

Harry spoke up again. "Trap or not, we're not just going to sit here and wait for something to happen," he said. "That key's leading us back to Quest Aerospace. Anubis expects Mayday to follow him." I could see the muscles working beneath his face. "But I bet he isn't expecting her to have company."

Silence.

"You're delusional," Ladyhawk said.

I turned to look at her. "Now what?"

Ladyhawk snorted. "I used to think you had _some_ mind, Spider-Girl. You actually think you stand a chance against them?" She flicked a claw at me disdainfully. "Just look at yourself. You're an emotional wreck. You're so exhausted you can barely stand. You're practically pneumatic. And what's more…"

The corner of her mouth pulled up into an ugly smirk. "Admit it, Spider-Girl. You thought you were invincible. You never really believed that something bad could happen to _you._ Oh, no, not _you._ It'll always happen to someone else. _You're_ too young to die, _you're_ too strong to die, _you're_ too smart to die. You know what thinking like that did to you? It made you reckless."

Ladyhawk's smirk stretched wider. She leaned forward. "You're _reckless_. That's what's wrong with you. You're ruled by your emotions. You rush headlong into every situation without giving a thought to the consequences. Do you really think little witticisms and mediocre skills are all it takes to win battles? Well, you're in for a rude surprise. You're nothing special. You weren't even smart enough to realize that your own brother was a—"

I lunged at her. Someone shouted and hands grabbed me. I pulled up short, both Harry and Nacht clinging to my arms.

Ladyhawk leaned back against the wall, her arms crossed, as unruffled as before. She nodded her head slowly as if to say, _See what I mean?_

"Mayday! _Sei still!_" Nacht yelled. In a lower voice, he muttered, "She says that only you angry to make. If you angry become, she wins."

_Then she won a long time ago,_ I thought.

But Ladyhawk wasn't done yet. "Kill your emotions," she said. "Concentrate all your focus on acquiring your goal. That's how you win, Spider-Girl. Careless fools who allow themselves to be blinded by their feelings, well…" Her lip curled. "I think we already have a fairly good exhibit in you."

I tore my arms from Harry and Nacht's grip. "And what do you know about it?" I snarled. "Who are _you_ to lecture me on controlling my emotions? Do you even _have_ emotions, or did they program them out of you?"

I couldn't stop, I didn't want to stop. "You know what you know about it? Nothing. You know nothing! You don't have a family. You don't have to take care of anyone but yourself. What do you know about feelings? You're not even human!"

The words were out of my mouth, and I didn't regret them. I wanted to see that smirk collapse and that face blanch. I wanted her to hurt.

But Ladyhawk hadn't even flinched. She leaned against the wall, her eyes glittering, thin lips stretched into a smile as cold and barren as the surface of the moon.

"Neither are you," she said.

I couldn't speak.

Harry spoke up. "None of us can do this alone," he said. "This is bigger than anything we ever imagined." He looked from Ladyhawk, to me, to Nacht. "But it's up to you."

I looked at the ground. I didn't want to see their faces. But as I stared down at the rubble I saw it again, the untouched grave, and the empty coffin below.

Harry. I had to tell him what I had found. I couldn't keep it from him. But what was I supposed to say? How could I tell him that his father…

Nacht was glaring at Ladyhawk. In his voice was a note I had never heard before. It sounded like defiance. "I care not if it trap is," he said. "I will go. I will do all I can."

Ladyhawk reached over to the crumbling wall and picked up a broken chunk of concrete. She tossed it into the air and caught it smoothly.

"When you're captured," she said, turning the rock over in her hands, "they'll torture you until reveal all you know. They'll learn about me and then come after me. Stay here, I die."

She tossed the rock to her other hand. "And if I come along, I'll only be able to take down a few before I get pumped full of bullets. Go with you, I die."

She closed her fingers over the rock and looked down at her fist. Without raising her eyes, she said, "But I'd rather die with my talons out than be hunted down like a snipe."

"Is that yes?" Nacht asked.

Ladyhawk snorted. She tossed the stone into the air and caught it. "When do we start?"

"Now," said Harry. "We're going to Quest Aerospace tonight."

Nacht nodded decisively. In the corner Ladyhawk was still lazily tossing the stone up and down. She caught it one final time, placed it against the fingers of her other hand, and began sharpening her claws.


	21. Chapter Twenty: Siege

Chapter Twenty

The night air was hot and dank. I could feel droplets of humidity seeping through my mask as I swung over Times Square. A fine mist swirled around the billboards, glowing eerily in the lights, and the sounds of the traffic below were muffled, almost as if the mist were sealing the city inside its own universe.

I shot a webline from my left wrist and made a sharp turn down 42nd street. Steady wingbeats thudded through the dead air to my right, and the low hum of Harry's glider made the air shiver to my left. Now and then, through a break in the fog, I saw Nacht snapping from rooftop to rooftop below. It was strange how we were moving, almost in formation.

Manhattan General loomed up out of the fog. Our first stop.

Only a few lights were on in the rooms on the top floor. The swirling fog made them flicker in and out of view, like blinking eyes. I reached the end of my swing, caught the crossbar of a streetlamp and vaulted onto the edge of the hospital's roof. The rooms here were private doctor's offices, with balconies and sliding glass doors.

I stepped off the roof and dropped down onto the third balcony from the corner. The yellow light of a desk lamp glimmered through the glass door. The glass was perfectly clear and looked new; Doc had probably had to replace it completely after Harry had lasered through it a few days ago.

The words echoed faintly in my head. _Just a few days ago._ It was too hard to believe, and I stopped trying.

My eyes adjusted to the light and I made out the shape of Doc inside the office, sitting at his desk. He was still in his lab coat, but his sleeves were rolled up and his tie hung unknotted around his neck. He sat leaning over the desk, writing something on a form. His eyes were red-rimmed behind his glasses, and in his short hair was more gray than I'd seen before.

Ladyhawk fluttered past me and landed lightly on the balcony, and a few seconds later Harry dropped out of nowhere and landed beside her. Nacht appeared in a crouch on the railing.

Doc looked up and saw us. He didn't look surprised.

He pushed himself away from his desk, came to the door and slid it open, then stepped back to give us room to come inside. Harry followed me in, and Nacht came after him, glancing warily from side to side, his tail flicking like a cat's. Ladyhawk was last, striding into the office as if she expected crowds to part for her. She fluttered her feathers, crossed her arms, and leaned sideways against the wall.

Doc glanced at her, then looked away and nodded at Nacht. "Good to see you again."

Nacht nodded back and shifted from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable. Doc turned back to us. His eyes flickered from me, to Harry, then back to me, as if he wasn't sure who he should look at. "So you're going through with this?" he asked.

No one spoke. I kept my eyes on Doc, but I could feel them all turning to look at me.

I nodded. "Yeah."

Doc sighed and passed a hand through his hair, then stood up and went to a metal cabinet hanging on the opposite wall. "I'm finished," he said. "Shire's samples made it much easier."

He took a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the cabinet. "The poison's a narcotic neurotoxin," he said. "It attacks the central nervous system, and it works fast. I've never seen a botanically-based toxin like this before. The closest thing to it that I could find was cone shell venom, and there's no antidote for that." He took something from a shelf and closed the cabinet. "The best I could do was try to trigger an immune response. I introduced the toxin into a type O blood sample and let the antibodies program themselves to recognize the molecules. That should be enough to neutralize the poison before it can do too much damage, if it's deployed fast enough."

He locked the cabinet and came back with a flat metal disc about the size of my palm. It was a dull gray and had a little half-circle of metal projecting out of the back.

"It's like this." Doc slid his ring finger through the metal loop and held up his hand, so that the disc stayed flat against his palm. "If you need it, slide it on and clap it right against the femoral artery. The needle will deploy on impact and deliver the antibodies into the bloodstream. Do it as soon as you can."

I nodded and reached out for it, but Doc didn't let go. "Wait. _Listen,_" he said. "This is _all_ of it. I don't have the equipment or the resources to make a larger amount." He held up the disc. "This is enough for one person. Do you understand me? _One_." He lowered his hand. "If more than one of you is attacked…"

Doc trailed off. No one finished his sentence.

"I hold," Nacht said. He tugged a lapel of his trench coat. "I have pockets."

Doc held out the disc. Nacht took it gingerly and slid it into a pocket in the inside layer of his coat.

Doc took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He stood still for a moment, then put them back on and looked up. "So you know how to get in and out of the building?"

"Not a problem," Harry said. He tapped the side of his helmet. "I downloaded the building plans into here," he said. "I have maps of every level."

I frowned. "Into where?"

"Huh?" he said. "Oh, yeah. I installed a computerized display that projects onto the insides of my eye shields. It's still got a few bugs, but it works." He made an attempt at a chuckle. "Trust me, you don't want this thing on your head when it gets stuck on screensaver."

There was a silence. Nacht looked down at the floor, scuffing at the carpet with his foot. Ladyhawk was still leaning against the wall, a hint of a smirk playing around the corners of her mouth, but her whole posture seemed stiff, tense, probably the exact opposite of the image she was trying to convey. Harry shifted.

Doc dropped his gaze. "Look, just…" I saw the muscles in his jaw tense. He looked up again. "Just…watch out for each other, okay?"

For a moment I wasn't sure whether it was really Doc's voice that I'd just heard. I had never heard him sound that way before, so unsure, and so…frightened. It didn't seem right at all. Doc was one of the bravest people I knew. He'd stood his ground with Black Widow snarling in his face, he'd held his own against armed guards when I could do nothing to help him, he'd flown a seaplane straight at an ocean rig seconds away from exploding. Without him we'd all have died that night.

But he was afraid now, and I knew why. He wouldn't be there to help us tonight. He'd done all he could do.

Nacht smiled weakly; it looked forced. "_Keine Sorge,_ _Doktor_," he said. "We come back."

Ladyhawk snorted. "Though maybe in pieces."

I glared at her, but it was invisible beneath my mask.

We went back out onto the balcony in silence. Harry's glider floated down out of the fog. He stepped onto it. "Thanks, Doc."

Doc nodded back jerkily. Harry gunned his glider and shot away into the night. Ladyhawk walked past Doc and bounded into the air without a word. Nacht hesitated for a moment, then evaporated.

I looked back at Doc, wondering whether I should say something reassuring, they way Nacht had. But nothing came to mind. Nothing true, anyway.

"Thanks," I said finally.

Doc made a valiant attempt at a smile. "Don't mention it."

I turned and dove over the edge of the balcony. The fog rushed up to engulf me. I shot a webline, felt it connect, and swung back up into the sky.

But each time I looked back I saw Doc still standing motionless on the balcony, silhouetted against the light of his office, until both he and the building dissolved into the night.

* * *

The Quest Aerospace skyscraper was about fifty stories tall, with a pyramid-shaped roof illuminated by blue and green lights. It looked like there was some construction going on nearby: two towering cranes stood in the empty lot across the street, throwing skeletal shadows over the ground. Traffic crawled past below. 

We were all on the ledge of the skyscraper across the street, crouching in a line like a row of gargoyles. I looked over my shoulder at the others. Harry was beside me, his glider hovering a few feet behind him, Nacht a few feet beyond, and Ladyhawk the farthest away. _Superhero team,_ I thought, and had to stifle a crazy sort of giggle. I didn't know what was wrong with me. One moment I could barely force words out of my mouth, and the next I was ready to burst out laughing.

_What are you talking about?_ a part of my brain muttered. _Your family's gone. That's reason enough._

Ladyhawk spoke suddenly. Her voice was sharp against the noises of the city and the night. "We should do a reconnaissance." She looked around, almost challengingly, as if waiting for someone to argue. No one did. Ladyhawk ruffled her wings and muttered, "To get a better grasp of the layout."

"Good point," Harry said. He stood, balancing on the ledge, and turned to Ladyhawk. "You and me? We can fly."

They turned to look at me. I stared back, expecting them to say something else, but they didn't. Then I realized— they were waiting for _me_ to speak.

"What?" I said.

Harry shrugged. "You're the leader."

I stared at him, but his goblin face only snarled back silently. The expression on Ladyhawk's face grew into a full-grown smirk. Nacht glanced between us, but said nothing.

"S-sure," I stammered. "Whatever you want."

Ladyhawk turned away and dropped from the roof in a falcon dive. Harry bounded back onto his glider and took off into the sky.

I watched them disappear, then turned to look at Nacht. He was still crouching on the edge of the roof, looking off into the distance, lights glittering in his eyes. I looked past him and saw huge spotlights focused on the pavement of a big empty lot a few blocks away. Two eighteen wheelers were parked beneath the streetlamps, and people scurried back and forth, pushing dollies and loading huge crates into trucks with forklifts. As I watched, a pickup truck rolled across the beam of light from one of the spotlights, hauling a trailer loaded with a giant roll of striped canvas. A circus big top, with a huge rip stretching along its full length.

It was the same circus that Ladyhawk and I had demolished. Flashes of swinging around on trapezes in my _Midsummer Night's Dream_ costume streamed through my head. It had been only days since I'd been spouting lines in a high school theater, but the memory seemed faint and foggy, like a half-forgotten dream.

"_For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast_," I murmured. I don't know why I did.

Nacht turned. "Shakespeare," he said.

I looked at him. Nacht couldn't have seen my expression through my mask, but I guess he sensed my surprise.

"English theater company spend two months in _München_," he said. "They play this _Dream._ Beautiful play." A sad little smile flitted across his face. "I see many times. Memorize most of lines, almost, even though they _auf Englisch_ were. Old, strange English, too."

He fell silent. I looked back towards the skyscraper, but Harry and Ladyhawk were nowhere to be seen. The skyscraper was still and empty— the scattered offices with their lights still on were deserted. I stared blankly at the windows, not really seeing anything. Mom, Dad, Benny. Andrea. Were they in there, somewhere?

What was happening to them?

A horrible thought rammed into me like a fist. My family was being used as bait, but Anubis only needed me to _believe_ that they were alive to spring his trap. What if they…what if he had…

Paralyzing fear crept over me like strangling vines. I wanted to run away, to hide, curl up and never move again. I hunched over, wrapped my arms around my knees, and shut my eyes. No. They were alive. They had to be alive.

"Mayday," I heard Nacht say softly. "You…okay?"

I couldn't open my eyes. "I can't do this," I whispered. "I can't lead you."

"You can," he said.

I shook my head. "No."

Nacht said nothing. A car horn blared distantly from the street below.

"What about Spider-Girl?" he said suddenly.

I raised my head and saw him looking back at me, perfectly serious. He opened his mouth again, but before he could speak Harry and Ladyhawk dropped from the sky.

"Not much going on," Harry said. "There're a few people from the cleaning staff on the lower floors, but that's it."

"Not normal," Ladyhawk grunted.

"Not really," Harry said, shrugging. "It's three in the morning."

Ladyhawk shot him a narrow look that disappeared a split second later. She didn't like being corrected.

"But I'm almost positive that what we're looking for isn't going to be immediately visible," Harry continued. "It'll be in the underground levels. That's where we need to go."

They looked at me again, all of them, but I understood what Nacht had meant. If Mayday couldn't do it, then maybe Spider-Girl could.

I stood up. "All right," I said. "Let's go."

It took only a few seconds for us to reach the roof of Quest Aerospace. I landed on the walkway that formed the perimeter of the roof and waited, but my spider-sense was silent. To my left the colored lights threw huge, elongated shadows onto the sides of the pyramid.

Harry bounded off his glider and let it drift down behind him. "Just a second."

He tapped something on his wristpad. The metal surface of the glider rippled and split, revealing a small square compartment inside the left wing. Harry reached inside and took something out. The metal rippled again and melted seamlessly back into place.

"Here." He handed it to me. It was the gizmo, the same one he had given me on the roof of the theater. "Might still be useful."

I nodded. Harry tapped something else, and the glider dropped down to hover about a foot above the roof. Two bright red lasers shot from the ports beneath it and traced a wide square on the concrete, leaving charred lines behind. The glider dropped to the ground, clamped onto the roof, then rose into the air, carrying the square of roof with it.

I felt sweat prickle on my forehead. "I'll go first."

I didn't want to, but I didn't have a choice. If I was the leader, then the risk was mine to take. I walked forward, took a deep breath, and stepped into space.

I landed on carpet and blinked a few times, waiting for my eyes to adjust. The room was huge and empty, and lit only by the dim light of the city shining through the windows lining the long wall behind me. It looked like some kind of conference room, or maybe an indoor observation deck. To my left and right, on opposite walls, were two sets of big double doors.

Harry, Nacht, and Ladyhawk dropped down after me. Ladyhawk glanced around. "Now what? I don't see any—"

My spider-sense screamed to life just as an alarm wailed through the room. The sound bounced around the room, blasting into my ears from all directions. In a whir of sliding panels automatic weapons unfolded from slots the ceiling, everywhere, surrounding us. The dim light glinted along the barrels.

I actually heard Harry swallow. "Those weren't in the building plans."

A voice blared through the room from speakers I couldn't see. It was cold and mechanized. "Stay where you are," it said. "Every weapon in this level is trained on you. Any sudden movement will trigger them. You will not have time to react. Stay where you are."

The voice cut off.

"They're coming up the stairs." Harry's voice was hoarse. "They must have been stationed all over the building."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw that the opaque eye shields of his helmet were tilted down towards the gizmo in my hands. Trying not to move my head, I lowered my eyes to the screen. It was in infrared mode, and the walls and floors around us were only ghostly outlines. The gizmo could see straight through the walls, and even through the steel barrels of the guns…

I blinked. The chambers weren't filled with bullets. Where a cartridge should have been was some kind of hollow cylinder, with a liquid gray blur flickering inside, and a long, cobweb-thin needle. They were darts.

"They're not trying to kill us," I whispered.

My mind whirled. Of course. It was part of the trap. Anubis had known that we would figure out that the chip had come from Quest Aerospace, and he'd been waiting for us. He wanted us alive.

I gritted my teeth. We had to get to the underground levels, and not on his terms.

_You're Spider-Girl. Act like it._

A swarm of faint red dots appeared on the gizmo's screen. They had reached the tenth floor.

Nacht's voice shook. "Wh-what we do?"

My eyes darted over the gizmo's screen. The wall to my right had a long, hollow gap that led straight down until it vanished from sight. An elevator shaft. And behind the wall in front of us was a cluster of cables that ran from the bases of the guns in front of us down through the wall and beneath the floor.

The red dots brightened. They were coming. We'd never be able to—

_Concentrate!_ I yelled inside my head. The guns. They were all connected at that spot. If we could somehow destroy that junction, it might be enough to keep the guns from working in tandem. And it might be enough to break their lock on us…

I clenched my fists so tightly that the gizmo shook in my hands. But we had no way to get to it! My web-shooting wasn't powerful enough to break through a wall, and there would be no room inside it for Nacht if he tried to teleport. And Harry couldn't throw a grenade without setting off the motion sensors. Which left only…

"Ladyhawk," I muttered.

Ladyhawk grunted. I took that to mean she was listening. "Your shriek," I whispered. "Can you aim it?"

Ladyhawk slowly turned her head towards me. The guns followed the movement. "What?"

"Can you concentrate the sound on a specific point?"

"I…I've never tried," she said. "Why?"

"Look." As slowly as I could, I tilted my head towards the gizmo. "See that?" I whispered. "All of the guns share that connection. If you can take it out, that'll have to damage them somehow."

Ladyhawk's eyes slid towards the wall in front of us. The red dots on the gizmo's screen grew brighter. Twentieth floor.

I swallowed hard. "Look," I said, trying to turn my head so that everyone could hear, "when Ladyhawk shrieks, everyone drop. Flat on the floor."

Nacht made a faint noise of agreement and Harry dipped his head in a tiny nod. _Okay,_ I thought. _Now the second part._ "Harry," I whispered. "You see the wall to my right?"

"Yeah."

"The elevator shaft's behind it. After Ladyhawk takes out the guns, throw a grenade and blow a hole in the wall." I swallowed again, but my mouth was as dry as ever. "Nacht. Think you can keep those guards busy afterwards?"

"_Ja_," Nacht said. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I have idea."

"Okay." I took a deep breath. "I'll take care of the rest."

Thirtieth floor.

Ladyhawk's voice was taut. "But what if I can't disable the guns?" she said. "Everything depends on that."

The realization hit me then, so hard that for a moment I forgot to breathe. This wasn't like anything I'd ever done before. In everything I'd done, in all the dangers I had faced, I'd only had to look out for myself. But I wasn't alone now. Harry, Nacht, Ladyhawk…they were in this because of me.

And anything that happened to them would be my fault.

The gizmo's screen glowed. The dots were clearer now. I could make out arms swinging and legs flashing in and out of view. Fortieth floor.

I could barely force my voice out of my mouth. "You said it yourself. We're dead anyway."

Ladyhawk made a noise that could have been a laugh. "You know," she said, "if you weren't such a self-righteous little hypocrite, I could almost get to like you."

Suddenly that jibe made it much easier for me to talk. "Same here. I could almost overlook your murderous vigilantism, if you weren't such a drama queen."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nacht slowly tilt his head towards Harry. "Girls," he muttered. "I never understand."

Harry sighed. "I'm with you, man."

My spider-sense began to buzz. I didn't need to look at the gizmo to know why. They were on the fiftieth floor.

Heavy footsteps clanged against the floor. The gizmo's screen glowed with human-shaped red blobs swarming down the hallways, towards the doors of the room. Twenty feet away, ten feet, five…

"Ladyhawk!" I yelled. "_Now!_"

Ladyhawk screeched. The noise shot into my ears like metal spikes. I dropped the gizmo and threw myself to the floor, my head ringing, and caught a glimpse of the guns spinning on their mounts, jerking back and forth like snake's heads. They weren't locked onto us anymore.

The gizmo's screen was a mass of red. Ladyhawk dropped to the ground just as the doors burst open and a mass of black-clad guards rushed into the room in a flurry of very sharp, very sudden movements.

The guns swiveled and fired. Darts buzzed through the air and the line of guards dropped like sacks of cement. I looked up and saw the guns spinning uselessly. They were out of darts.

A grenade whizzed past my ear. I squeezed my eyes shut and covered my head. The grenade exploded with a noise that would have deafened me if Ladyhawk's shriek hadn't already done the job. A wave of heat swept over me like a sandstorm, and a second later a shower of broken sheetrock and metal bounced off my head and shoulders and fell steaming to the floor.

I jumped to my feet. The left wall was nothing but a blackened crater with cracks radiating out like bolts of lightning. Split wires dangled from the ragged edges of the wall, sparking.

The guards actually stopped still, as if stunned by the explosion. I stared at them, but I was as frozen as they were. Black helmets, black armor. The same guards that had burst through the door at home, flanking Anubis. The guards that had…

A dart buzzed past my head. I jerked away and whirled around in time to see a guard swing a gun at me like a club. Barely thinking, I caught it just before it connected with my skull, spun around and heaved. The guard flew over my head and collided with a guard who had been aiming at Ladyhawk. The two of them crashed to the ground. Nacht appeared behind them and clamped both hands around the backs of their necks. All three of them evaporated.

Whatever bonds that had been holding me snapped. I raced towards the destroyed wall, bounded up to the ceiling and clung there, peering frantically into the darkness of the elevator shaft. The elevator was there, only a few floors below.

I dropped to the floor. A guard ran at me, cursing. I whirled and kicked his legs out from under him. He hit the floor and clawed his way up. "You little—"

Ladyhawk came out of nowhere and pounced. The guard's last curse dissolved into a shriek. Ladyhawk flung him into another guard and snarled, "Whatever you're planning, _do it!_"

I didn't need any more encouragement. I dashed towards the crater, shot web from both wrists, and felt the ends splatter against the side of the elevator. Then I wrenched.

The cables snapped. The elevator crashed through the wall in an explosion of metal and sheetrock. Guards yelled and dove out of the way. The elevator skidded across the floor and slammed into the opposite wall so hard that ceiling panels clattered down around it. I leaped across the room, jammed my fingers into the seam between the elevator doors and forced them open.

The window beside me exploded like a bomb. Arrows of glass sped through the air as Harry's glider jetted into the room and whipped over the floor like a boomerang, knocking guards out of the way like bowling pins. One guard tumbled towards me. I caught him and tossed him into the elevator. He crashed against the back wall and slumped over, gasping. I webbed three more together and flung them after him. They fell in a heap.

All around me was complete mayhem. My spider-sense sent me dodging and leaping in all directions, evading darts and blows from guns. All I could see flashed past my eyes like disjointed scenes from a film: Harry grappling with five guards with darts ricocheting off his armor, Nacht snapping in and out of existence, Ladyhawk grabbing a guard by the throat and drawing back her claws…

"Ladyhawk!" I yelled. "_No_!"

Ladyhawk turned. Her lip curled. "Too final for you?" She flung the guard at me. "Then _you_ deal with her!"

I caught the guard by the collar just before she hit the floor and hauled her up. "She goes overboard," I muttered. "Me, I'd rather just see you in jail."

"G-g-guh…" the guard gurgled.

"You're welcome." I tossed her into the others inside the elevator, who had just been climbing to their feet, and turned just in time to see Ladyhawk grab hold of a guard and fling him headlong out the window.

I raced forward, fired a webline and snatched him out of the air. "_Will you stop that?_"

I grabbed the end of the webline and swung it like a whip. The guard sailed into the elevator and crashed into the middle of the group already inside. Ladyhawk spun around. "If you don't have the guts to—"

"Shut up and move!" I pushed past her and dashed towards the elevator, shoved one of the guards back inside, then grabbed the doors and dragged them shut. I leaped and somersaulted across the top of the elevator, clamped my fingers onto the broken cables dangling from the elevator's roof, and ran straight for the windows.

The elevator tore across the floor after me, gouging through the carpet. The window rushed towards me, the cranes beyond it black against the sky. Broken glass crunched under my feet, and then I leaped into space.

The elevator crashed through what was left of the windows and flew into the air after me. I shot a webline that connected squarely with the steel beams of the crane and let my momentum catapult me forward. The elevator soared after me like the tail of a kite, and over the wind roaring past my ears I heard muffled screams from inside.

"Earning your money now, aren't you?" I yelled.

I reached the end of the swing, let myself fall, and caught hold of the huge metal hook dangling a few yards below the end of the crane. I wrapped the elevator cables around the hook, spun a knot of webbing around them, then dropped to the elevator roof and punched a hole through the metal. The guards were lying in a heap at the bottom, and a few had their helmets off and were busy throwing up. I shook my head. They wouldn't suffocate, but it would be a few unpleasant hours before they managed to get out.

I shot a webline at the building's roof and sailed back through a hollow window. Harry and Ladyhawk were standing in the middle of a room completely empty of guards. Nacht materialized beside them. The room around them was as deserted as it had been when we'd come in, aside from the blast marks, sparking wires, and gaping hole in the wall.

Harry pulled off his helmet. His hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat. He smiled crookedly. "Huh," he said. "That wasn't so hard."

Ladyhawk pointed at me. "Yes, even though we might have been faster if this idiot hadn't kept—"

That did it. I whipped my arm up and shot a jet of webbing straight at her face. Ladyhawk squawked and reeled backwards. I turned away. "Nacht? What did you do with all of the others?"

Nacht pointed out the window at the gleaming lights of the circus below. He grinned. "I put them in with cargo. Hope they wake before they get to Charleston."

Ladyhawk ripped the webbing from her mouth. "You—"

Harry interrupted. "It's not over yet."

I turned. "Huh?"

Harry pointed at the floor, where the gizmo lay, miraculously still in one piece. It was still in infrared mode.

Nacht crouched down and squinted at the screen. "What are those?"

There were more dots on the screen, but blue, this time. They weren't emitting any heat. They were already on our floor, cold shapes with eight pickaxe legs and razor-sharp mandibles.

I'd seen those before.

And there were at least a hundred of them.

"Down the shaft!" I yelled. "Go! _Go!_"

For once Ladyhawk didn't bother to argue. She raced across the room and dove through the crater. Nacht cast me a stricken look, then raced after her. He vanished down the shaft.

_CLICKCLICKCLICKCLICK_!

I turned. Spiderbots swarmed through the door, their sensors sweeping the room. Harry yanked his helmet on and ran for the shaft. "Come on!"

I tore after him and leaped feetfirst down the shaft. The metal walls hurtled past me. After a few floors I somersaulted in the air and slapped my hands against the metal to break my fall. I looked up and felt my joints lock.

The spiderbots were crawling down the walls of the shaft.

"Oh, _great_."

The first spiderbot sprang. Legs embedded in the wall on either side of me. I threw out my hands and grabbed the sides of its head. The spiderbot strained forward, clicking. Mandibles sawed the air an inch from my face.

"Get _off!_" I drew my legs up to my chest and kicked out as hard as I could. The spiderbot flew off me and smashed against the other side of the shaft. I pushed myself away from the wall and dropped until I crashed against the opposite wall. The spiderbots were still coming, their legs sinking into the metal.

I shot a line of web that stretched across the shaft, and then another one crossing it. I threw webline after webline, until a net of webbing spanned the entire width of the shaft. Spiderbots piled against it, jaws gnashing. The webbing strained.

"This isn't going to hold them!" I yelled.

Harry jetted past me, a grenade in his fist. "Got you covered!"

He hurled the grenade straight up. It spun up into the air and clamped onto the webbing. The light on its side began blinking faster, and faster…

Wait. In a confined space, the shockwave would—

The blast tore me off the wall. I threw out my arms, grabbing for a hold, anything, but my palms dragged uselessly over the metal I crashed into Ladyhawk, into Nacht, and then an instant later the ground crashed into us. Twisted chunks of metal rained down, their edges smoking.

I groaned and pushed myself us, every muscle in my body aching. Red emergency lights soaked everything in a strange glow. Ladyhawk climbed to her feet, scowling, as Harry drifted down. "Everyone okay?" I asked. "Nacht…Nacht?"

Nacht looked up at me and said, through gritted teeth, "You…stand…on…my…tail."

"Oh, sorry!" I jumped back. Nacht rolled to his feet, holding his tail ruefully. Beside him, Harry's glider folded in on itself and snapped into a slot on the back of his gauntlet.

Ladyhawk opened her wings and snapped them shut. A cloud of dust and metal splinters flew into the air. "Well done."

Harry nodded. "Thank you."

"That was sarcasm."

"Likewise."

The elevator doors were in front of us, gleaming red in the light. I didn't bother to take a deep breath. I went to the doors, pried them open, and stepped out.

The room behind them was large and bare, the size of an airport hanger, with desks with swiveling chairs and computer terminals lining the walls. Only a few desk lamps glowed at the edges of the room, and deep shadows clung to the corners of the room like bats. But there was a strange humming in the air, even as deserted as this place was, as if a current were running through the walls.

"What is this?" Nacht murmured.

Ladyhawk went over to the nearest desk and began rummaging through the papers on top of it. I pulled the elevator doors shut again and followed them into the room. Harry and Nacht were standing in front of a raised panel a few feet away, in the middle of the room. There was nothing on it, no keys or screens or anything at all. It was just a smooth square of metal, with a tiny, triangular depression in the middle of it.

"That's it," Harry murmured. He stepped forward and stopped in front of the panel. Something glittered in the palm of his hand. It was the key.

Harry held the key out over the panel and turned his hand. The key slid off his palm…and stopped falling.

I stared. The key hung suspended over the panel, bobbing slightly in the air. Slowly, it turned itself over and drifted down into the slot.

The humming grew louder, vibrating through the floor. The panel sank into the floor and disappeared. A moment later the floor opened again. Two panels on either side of the first slid open, and two small machines, almost like projectors, rose out of the floor. A panel on the ceiling above slid open and a third projector slid out, all three of them forming a kind of sideless triangle. The air shimmered inside, like heat waves rising from pavement.

"A teleportation portal," Harry murmured. "This is amazing."

Ladyhawk came back from the desk, a paperweight in her claws. She stopped in front of the triangle and tossed the paperweight into the shimmering air inside it. A spark of green light flared like an igniting match, and the paperweight was gone.

Something clanged inside the shaft behind us, like pickaxes on metal.

"Oh, come _on_," Harry groaned. "Aren't we ever going to get a break?"

There was only one thing to do, and I knew then that it was what Anubis had intended all along. "Through the portal," I said. "Hurry!"

Ladyhawk stared at me. "Are you crazy? We don't know what's on the other side!"

I pointed at the doors. The metal was buckling. "No," I said, "but what's on the other side of _that_ isn't so great."

A corner of the door bent away from the frame. A spiderbot wriggled its head through the gap, mandibles clacking.

"_That's_ what we were running from?" Ladyhawk laughed aloud. "Maybe they're too much for _you_, but I can handle those—"

"Oh, _halt's Maul!_" Nacht grabbed her arm and threw himself towards the portal. Ladyhawk yelled and toppled backwards into the shimmering air. Green light blazed and died away. The portal was empty.

Another thought hit me like a fist. Those spiderbots had targeted us, and they'd follow us straight through. Unless…

"Harry!" I shouted. "Give me a grenade!"

"_What?_"

"Hurry!"

Harry shoved a grenade in my hands. "Now get through the portal!" I yelled. "Go!"

Harry didn't move. "What are you going to—"

I lunged forward and shoved him as hard as I could. Harry yelled and hurtled backwards into the portal. Another greenish flash erupted from the air inside the triangle, and he was gone.

Metal screeched behind me. I whirled just in time to see the doors rip loose and crash to the floor. Fifteen spiderbots swarmed over it, their legs clanging against the metal. Sweat seeped through my mask. Who was looking out at me through those sensors?

I clenched the grenade. I knew what to do.

_Not on your terms_.

I pressed the button and threw the grenade. It bounced off the opposite wall and fell to the floor, rolling in a lazy circle.

The spiderbots paused. I saw their sensors narrow and focus on the spinning grenade. The grenade started to slow, but the light on its side was blinking faster, and faster…

I turned and ran straight at the portal. A blast of heat and noise erupted behind me, and suddenly I was hurtling forward and green light blazed and—

I crashed facefirst into dirt.

For a moment I couldn't move. My head swum and my face ached, and something sharp was prickling against my arm.

My brain finally stopped spinning. I braced my hands and pushed myself to my feet, and found myself looking straight up into a night sky blazing with stars.

For a moment all I could do was stare. I had never seen so many stars. At home, even on clear nights, all I could ever make out were just a few pinpricks of light drowning in the glow of the city. But huge stars burned coldly overhead, winking inside the snowy streak of the galaxy, casting a pale light over the ground.

The ground. There was no pavement, no grass, nothing but dry, rocky dirt. Stubby plants twisted up from the dust in clumps, all around, dotting the landscape until they melted into a dark blot on the horizon, a long, serpentine shadow with rippling edges. Mountains.

I looked around and saw the others. Nacht was staring up at the sky, his mouth open. A few yards away Ladyhawk stood still, her back to me, looking off into the distance. I turned, looking for Harry, and saw him behind me, pulling off his helmet. He let it fall and fumbled with something on the back of his gauntlet. The wristpad slid open. He tapped some keys, and a second later a tiny holographic star map expanded into the air above his wrist. The star map spun, zoomed in, and froze in place. Tiny green letters appeared in the middle of the pinprick constellations. _Location confirmed._

"Know you where we are?" Nacht asked.

Harry looked up. "Yeah," he said. The star map cast a pale glow over his face. "We're in Arizona's Sonoran Desert."


	22. Chapter Twenty One: Fury

Chapter Twenty-One

A breeze rippled across the desert, dry as a breath from a furnace. Harry's holographic display winked out. The moonlight seemed pale and thin in comparison.

"_Wahnsinn_," Nacht murmured. He kicked a flat pebble and watched it bounce away into the darkness. "I did not know I sign up for western movie."

His words sank into the silence. I shivered. I had never heard anything like it before, a total absence of sound, an awful quiet that seemed somehow alive. Everything around us, the ground, the air, even the stars above seemed like parts of one creature, observing us invisibly, and waiting.

_Stop it,_ I thought. I had to get a hold of myself and think. This wasn't over yet; Anubis wouldn't have taken the time to lure us to the middle of the desert just to leave us to die. There had to be something here.

Harry's voice cracked the quiet. "Ladyhawk?" he said. "What are you doing?"

I turned. Ladyhawk stood a few feet away, looking off into the distance. She was so still that she seemed to melt into the landscape, as if the moonlight has solidified around her like a coating of stone. Her eyes were locked on the horizon.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Nacht take a step towards her. "You…all right?"

Ladyhawk shuddered. A long, ragged gasp rattled out of her throat. She took a step forward, towards the distant mountains, and started to run.

"Ladyhawk!" I yelled. What was she _doing? _"Where are you…_Ladyhawk!_"

Ladyhawk didn't stop. Her gait was strange, stiff and stumbling, as if running wasn't something she was used to.

I glanced at Harry and Nacht, sucked in a deep breath, and took off after her.

Rocks skidded and rolled under my feet with every step. Every few feet spiny bushes and cacti reared up out of the ground, forcing me to bound over them or dodge around them to keep them from ripping through my legs. _I'm not cut out for this,_ I thought. There was nothing to leap to, nothing to swing from, no walls of smooth concrete, no gravel roofs. Even the air felt alien, so dry and thin, as if with every exhalation the desert was sucking the moisture out of me.

Harry's glider roared over my head as he shot after Ladyhawk. Behind me, and then ahead of me, came the _bamf _of Nacht teleporting. I forced more speed into my legs and raced after them. Ladyhawk was only a tiny shadow now, still running, her wings flaring as she stumbled. I squinted. There was something there, ahead of her, a low, rectangular building crouching in the shadow of the mountains.

I leaped over a dry streambed and barely missed landing in a patch of something thorny. I could see it more clearly now, and I realized why I hadn't noticed it before: the building was completely dark. There weren't any lights at all, not from windows or even a parking lot. It looked deserted.

Then I saw it, a huge transparent dome rising behind the building like some kind of giant aviary. The web of metal supports gave off a faint shine.

I slowed to a jog. What _was_ this?

The ground under my feet leveled out into concrete. A narrow highway spur twisted away in both directions and vanished into the distance. On the other side, Harry had stopped. He was hovering in midair just ahead of me, his hands fists at his sides, looking down at something on the ground in front of him.

I bounded across the highway and landed beside him. A few feet away from the road was an ancient section of chain-link fence lying flat on the ground, so rusted that it blended in with the dirt. A sign was clamped to it, sun-bleached and half covered with weeds.

OSCORP INDUSTRIES

INSTITUTE FOR GENETIC RESEARCH

SOUTHWEST BRANCH

_ENTRY_ _RESTRICTED_

Dread seeped over me. A flash of memory came with it, letters traced in dust. _O-S-C-O-R-P._

I swallowed and looked up. Harry was silent. The reflection of the letters gleamed on his eye shields.

I looked down again and started walking. The building loomed up in front of me, now just a hundred feet away. Most of its front was transparent, made of two sets of automatic doors and a revolving door a few yards to the left. They were both only metal frames. The ground beneath them was littered with shards of glass, half-buried in dirt. Dry, spindly weeds twisted up around them like clutching fingers.

I stopped in front of them and waited, tense, but my spider-sense was silent.

I took a deep breath, clamped my teeth together, and stepped through the doors.

Thick dust coated what could have been the lobby of any skyscraper or fancy office building. The floors and walls were made of polished dark green granite, and an information desk of the same color rose smoothly out of the floor in front of me. Behind that was a wall of elevators, its metal doors and brass numbers gleaming dully against the grime.

Broken glass crunched under my feet as I walked over to the desk. On it was a pair of perfectly normal telephones, scattered folders filled with printed documents, a microphone, a desktop computer. The monitor's screen was a web of cracks.

I reached out and closed my fingers around the edge of a folder. A sheet of grainy dust slid off the surface as I picked it up. A scorpion skittered out from under the papers beneath it and disappeared into the shadows behind the computer.

Nacht appeared in the middle of the lobby. Beyond him I saw Harry standing on the other side of the empty doors, his glider compacting behind him. It sped down and clamped into a slot on his gauntlet.

"Look."

I turned and saw Nacht pointing at the floor. A trail of footprints wound through the dust and around a corner. "She went this way," he said.

The trail wound past the desk and elevators and into a wide hallway. At the end was a shattered glass door, with a panel beside it that must have been for a key card.

I looked over my shoulder. Nacht was a few feet behind me, looking around uneasily, and Harry behind him, silent. His head was bowed.

We followed the footprints through two more empty doors. There was hardly any light at all now, and cobwebs as thick as gauze hung in rags from the ceiling and clung to my hands as I pushed them away.

The footprints rounded a corner and disappeared in front of two huge metal doors, frozen halfway open, their edges bent and deformed as if someone had pried them apart. They were at least three times as tall as I was and at least eight inches thick, framed with a layer of rubber that must have once been a vacuum-seal, like an airlock. A dark control panel was set in the wall beside them, its screen cracked and smeared.

Harry went to the panel, hooked his fingers around its edges, and pried the cover off. Behind it was a mesh of wires, ports, and things that I had never seen before. Harry raised his right hand, and with his left tapped something on the back of his glove. With a whirr, five needle-thin electronic probes extended from his fingertips.

He raised his hand and laid it against the wires. A few faint sparks shot out of the panel, and a second later the screen glowed to life. Ghostly green letters flashed against a black background.

OPERATION 0007354

O-56372

"PROJECT FURY"

Harry pulled his hand away. The screen died.

No one spoke. I walked forward and slid through the doors, into the dome.

Shafts of moonlight poured through the roof, the dust swirling within them making them seem liquid and alive. Stretching around the base of the dome was a giant ring of computer terminals, mounted cameras dotting the walls around them like silent black birds. The metal floor was strewn with jagged shards of glass, some as long as my forearm. Overhead was nothing but a metal framework. The entire dome had come crashing down.

Something rustled at the other side of the dome. I could just make out the form of Ladyhawk by the far wall. I shot a webline at one of the metal struts at the top of the dome and swung across the floor to the other side. A long, jagged gash split the floor a few yards away from where I landed, as if a giant claw had dug into the metal and sliced it open. Flaps of twisted metal peeled back from a web of wiring and thin metal struts. I crouched down and ran my fingers over the edge of the gash. The wires weren't corroded, and no dust had settled on the shreds of metal. This was recent.

I stood up and saw Ladyhawk pulling off her mask. She was staring down at something balanced on the tips of her claws. It was a typical Hallmark card, decorated with drawings of confetti and fireworks, and inside I could just make out a few lines written in neat, looping cursive.

_Happy birthday, Alecto!_

_Best wishes from all of your friends_

Ladyhawk started to shake. The card slipped from her hands and slapped against the floor. Something spun out of it and skidded across the floor in a cloud of dust, and stopped near my feet. It was a photo.

I reached down and picked it up. Against a backdrop of sunlit desert stood a group of five people, two men and two women. They were dressed like tourists on vacation, with huge sunglasses and camera cases slung around their necks. In the middle of the group was a little girl wearing an Arizona Diamondbacks baseball cap. She was grinning happily and reaching up in an attempt to give bunny ears to the man standing beside her. It could have been a photo from any vacation, and the little girl could have been anyone, except for the pair of huge feathered wings rising from her back.

I heard a slight noise from behind me, turned and saw Nacht looking over my shoulder. I handed him the photo. He took it gingerly. His eyebrows lifted and he looked up, past me, at Ladyhawk.

He took a step towards her, holding out the photo. "Is this—"

He flinched away just as Ladyhawk's claws swiped the air inches from his face. "_Get away from me!_"

Nacht stared at her, bewildered. "But—"

"I said _get away!_" Ladyhawk screeched. "I'll rip you apart! You hear me? All of you! _Stay away!_"

She stumbled backwards in a crouch, her eyes flickering between us, her breath hissing through her teeth. Nacht stayed where he was. "What happen here?" he murmured.

Fragments of memories swirled through my head, fitting together. Oscorp. Project Fury. The photo.

"I think I know," I whispered.

Ladyhawk stared at me. "Wh-…what do _you_ know?"

Whatever else I was going to say died in my throat. I had never seen an expression like that before, not on anyone. Her eyes were wide, her lips drawn back into a grimace so horrible that her entire face seemed nothing but skin stretched over the skull beneath.

"You…" she gasped. "You…" Her words were faint, trembling, as if she were trying to swallow a sob and choking. "You with your family and your friends and your house and your life and your…" Her voice rose to a shriek. "Get away from me! I don't need your sympathy! I don't need any of you! _Stay away!_"

She stumbled back, towards the crevasse, and I saw what was about to happen. "_Look_ _out!_"

Ladyhawk fell. I whipped up my hands to websling, but the weblines shot into empty air. I ran to the edge of the crevasse. Ladyhawk was gone. All I could see was a floor made of black metal grille.

I stepped over the edge of the crevasse and dropped down. A jagged patch of moonlight lit the floor and threw a dim reflection on the walls around me. They were made of the same metal grille and stretched away in both directions, creating a long corridor.

Something rustled behind me. I turned and saw her, huddling just beyond the edge of the light. Her arms were wrapped around her knees, her wings draped around her like the folds of a blanket.

"They shot at me," she whispered. She closed her eyes, squeezed them shut. "They _shot_ at me."

Her face crumpled. I stared at her, stunned, barely able to believe what I was seeing. This was Ladyhawk. A cold-blooded vigilante. But all the time, beneath all of that violence, all of that rage, _this_ had been there?

"Ladyhawk…" I said.

Ladyhawk opened her eyes. Her gaze was lifeless. "It was here," she whispered. "This is where they made me. Nine years ago."

For a moment I wasn't sure whether she'd really said what I thought she had. "What?"

Ladyhawk snorted, but it sounded weak. "You heard me." He voice was flat, toneless. "I grew up fast."

She stared down at the broken concrete. Her face was as blank as her voice. "I don't know how many of us there were at first, but I was the only one who survived. I know most of the infants didn't live more than a week. Too many mistakes in their genes, too many disorders. It's not easy combining human and bird DNA."

She continued, her eyes on the floor. "They tried everything, owls, falcons, hawks, even vultures. If the subject died, they'd start over. They had to have a success. They were afraid to fail.

"Then they found a working combination, human and golden eagle, and they made me. HAF zero one. _Homo avis_ female, number one."

She shook her head, slowly. "I wasn't like other people, I always knew that. The children in the books I read weren't like me. They went to school, they had friends, they played sports and went to the movies. They had families, parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins. I didn't have anything like that."

Her face twisted. "So I _pretended_," she said. "I tried to pretend that I was just like the children in the books. I told myself that the doctors were my family and the Institute was my house, and when I trained with the androids I pretended I was playing sports, a game, even though I knew that soccer and baseball didn't involve ripping limbs off."

A short, harsh laugh leaked from between her teeth. "I was good at that. I could fight. But that wasn't enough for them. Because I…" She swallowed. "I couldn't fly."

Her head snapped up so quickly that I flinched. She stared straight at me, her face taut and intense. "I had wings, I had feathers, I had hollow bones. There was no reason why I shouldn't have been able to fly. But I couldn't. I'd always fall."

She looked away, at the wall past me. "They lectured me all the time on how important it was that I succeed, how I was the first of a new species, how I had to do well. And I tried. I tried so hard, during training, and afterwards, by myself. But I never made it. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't fly. I was useless. That's how Dr. Stromm used to describe me. Useless."

Dr. Stromm. I remembered that name. _He was my dad's research partner_, Harry had said. _He's been dead for years._

My spider-sense buzzed to life a split second before Ladyhawk smashed her fist against the floor. "Did they think I didn't _want_ to fly?"

She lifted her hand. In the grille was a jagged crater where her fist had landed. "Maybe it was something inside me, maybe the part of me that was bird, but I hated the ground. Wherever I was I could feel the ceilings weighing down on me, the walls pressing in on me. But I couldn't get away. I couldn't fly. I couldn't. I _couldn't._"

She fell silent. I stared at her, bewildered. Why was she telling me this? Ladyhawk couldn't stand me. Before today she'd tried to kill me every time we'd met. Why would she reveal any of this to me, of all people?

But then, just as I finished asking myself, I realized. She'd never had anyone to tell it to.

That choked-off sob echoed inside my head. _You with your family and your friends and your house and your life…_

She'd never had anyone at all.

Ladyhawk waved a hand listlessly towards the far wall. "The canyon's that way," she murmured. "I used to be able to see it from my window. When I wasn't training I used to sit by the glass and look out for hours, until the sun set and there was nothing else to see except my own reflection. I'd leave then. I hated my reflection. Whenever I saw it I wanted to smash my fist through the glass. But I knew I couldn't destroy it. And I knew that even if there was nothing to reflect it, even if I refused to look, it would always be there. The failure. Some stitched-together Frankenstein's monster that everyone pitied or loathed."

She lowered her eyes. I didn't speak. There was nothing I could say.

"But not all of them were like that," she said. "Dr. Jiang wasn't. I knew he didn't think I was a failure, even though I couldn't even do what I was designed to do."

She turned back to stare at the floor. "He was the one who picked a name for me. Everyone before had just called me Zero-One, but he found me a name. He claimed it was obvious. The whole operation was called Project Fury, after the Greek Furies, so he named me after a Fury. Alecto. Unceasing-in-Anger."

Her voice changed, became more measured, as if she were quoting. "_They lived in the world below, from which they ascended to earth to pursue the wicked_."

A small, bitter smile crossed her face. "I used to show off all the time. I suppose it was because I couldn't fly, and I wanted to prove I could do something. I studied everything, mathematics, science, literature. I taught myself Mandarin Chinese in six months. Dr. Jiang was delighted."

Her fists clenched. I saw her talons sink into the palms of her gloves. "But I still couldn't fly.

"Then it happened. That day I'd finished my training and the assistants were taking me back to my room. The walls were made of glass, so they could observe me whenever they needed to. I was used to that. But this time they locked me in. I heard it click.

"I knew something was different, wrong. And then through the wall I saw Dr. Stromm and Dr. Jiang arguing. They stopped when they noticed that I was watching them, and then they walked off." She shook her head. "But they still didn't know just how well I could hear.

"Dr. Stromm was talking. He wouldn't give Dr. Jiang any time to speak; he would keep talking even if Dr. Jiang tried to interrupt. He'd received an order from 'higher up', about me.

"He said that the project's funding had been cut, that they'd wasted six years and millions of dollars on me, and they still had nothing to show for it. And that no one was going to pay for a flawed genome.

"Dr. Jiang managed to speak then, told him that I had been making progress, that I just needed more time. But Dr. Stromm interrupted. He said, 'He's not giving you a choice, Jiang, he's giving you an order. Terminate it. Immediately.'"

Her hands unclenched. Droplets of blood bloomed where her talons had pierced her palms. "And Dr. Jiang said, 'I understand.'

"That was all. 'I understand.' Nothing else. _Nothing else._

"I tried to tell myself that I couldn't have heard them correctly, that they couldn't really have been talking about me, that they couldn't mean what they had said. But then they came.

"They were the technicians I had known my entire life, but now they were wearing white suits and helmets with clear plastic faceplates. Their faces were cold.

"I started babbling, promising that I'd be good, that I'd try harder. They didn't listen. They sealed the doors of my room and started placing metal canisters on the floor by the walls. I could see the words printed on their surfaces. Chlorine gas.

"I saw that, and then I started to scream.

"I'd never screamed before, not really. I didn't know what my scream could do, and neither did they. I just stood there and screamed, and my voice grew louder and louder, and then there was glass shattering and raining down around me, and I…"

She swallowed. "I ran. I had to get away. And then all of a sudden there were bullets everywhere, blasting holes in the walls. They were shooting at me. They were trying to kill me.

"Then I was outside. It was evening and the sun had already set behind the mountains. I remember running, running and sobbing and thorns and spines ripping the skin on my legs and feet. There were bullets raining down all around me, exploding against the ground. One hit a rock next to me and blew it to pieces. I remember because a shard hit me."

She raised her fingers to her face, and I saw a white scar tracing her cheekbone. "And then the canyon was in front of me. It happened so fast. Before I saw the edge it was too late. I couldn't stop in time. And…"

She stared into the darkness. "And I fell," she whispered.

"I wasn't scared. I felt the ground disappear from under me, and then it was just me and the air. I knew I was going to die, but I knew that if I had to die here, now, it would be this way. In the air, if only for an instant.

"I closed my eyes and waited. I only wanted to feel the air around me. I didn't want to see the ground rushing up to claim me again. But then I felt myself slow. My wings were opening. I felt the air catch them, felt it lift me up. My feathers felt every tiny swirl of the wind. I knew without thinking how to rise and drop, how to turn, how to spread my wings and drift with the wind. I knew it all. I was born for this. This was where I belonged. I was flying. _Flying_."

She looked down at the floor again. Her voice flattened. "I escaped. I found a crevasse in the wall of the canyon where I could hide. But they didn't stop searching. I'd find a place to hide and watch them combing the desert below me. Anything that moved, they'd shoot. Even when I didn't see them I could always tell where they had been, because of all of the dead animals.

"I had to get out of there, I knew that. I had to find a place far away, where they wouldn't be able to hurt me. So that night, after they were gone, I left."

She looked up. Her eyes were only faint glitters beneath the shadows of her eyebrows. "They tried to kill me. They created me, trained me, raised me, and when I wasn't good enough, they tried to kill me. I was never a person to them. I was never anyone worth caring about. I was just a weapon, not a soldier. People care when a soldier dies. Soldiers have feelings. Soldiers are human beings."

Her lips pulled back from her teeth in an expression that was nothing like a smile. "They created me to be a killing machine."

A growl crept into her voice. "But I'm not going to be that way," she said. "Even if all I can do is destroy, I'm not going to be that way. I'm not going to die like the others. And I'll show them what a failure can do."

Her voice faded. The silence droned in my ears.

"I understand," I said.

And I did, finally.

Ladyhawk's head snapped up. "I don't need any understanding from _you_," she spat.

I sighed. "Fine. You're rude, snotty, conceited, vicious, your roundhouse kicks are pathetic and you're more melodramatic than _Days of Our Lives._ Happy now?"

"And you're a self-righteous, smug, narrow-minded, hypocritical know-it-all with the worst sense of dress I've ever seen," Ladyhawk said. She swiped the back of her hand across her eyes. "And the whole thing about having spinnerets in your wrists is disgusting."

I shut my mouth before something I'd probably regret came out. Ladyhawk cawed a bitter laugh. "We're just a regular little army of freaks, aren't we?"

The word burned in my brain like acid, mixing with memories of other voices, Andrea's, Jameson's, voices I didn't even know, and in that moment I felt something in me snap. I'd heard and seen that word more times than I could count, and I'd had enough.

"We're not freaks," I said. "Look, I don't care how we look or what we can do, we're just as human as anyone else on this planet. It doesn't matter what other people might—"

"All right, all right," Ladyhawk muttered. "Don't give any speeches on my account."

She climbed to her feet, picked up her mask and pulled it down over her face. The bird head looked skeletal in the half-light.

Shadows slid across her face. I looked up and saw Harry and Nacht standing at the edge of the crevasse, looking down at us. They'd heard it all.

Nacht appeared with a _bamf_ a few feet away. Harry dropped down and landed in a crouch beside us. He looked around, slowly, his snarling mask seeming alive in the shifting shadows. He didn't speak.

Nacht narrowed his eyes, squinting at something past me. "What is that?"

I turned around and found myself facing another set of metal doors, so close that I couldn't believe I hadn't seen them before. They were perfectly clean, without a trace of dust or grime, just like the gash above.

I stepped forward. The doors retreated into the walls with a hiss. Air rushed out, cold and stinging with the smell of disinfectant. Beyond them was nothing but darkness.

My mouth went dry. This was all part of Anubis's plan. He knew about Ladyhawk. He had known that she would recognize this place, that she'd come here, and that we'd follow and find the tunnel. He'd anticipated every move we had made.

I couldn't move, could barely breathe. My joints had fused together. I had never felt so helpless, so afraid.

I swallowed hard. Mom. Dad. Benny. I had to do it. I had to find them.

Slowly, I turned and looked over my shoulder. Ladyhawk, Nacht, and Harry stood behind me, waiting.

_Leader._

I sucked in a deep breath and stepped through the doors, into the darkness beyond.


	23. Chapter Twenty Two: Reunion

Chapter Twenty-Two

A dim light flickered on beneath the floor. The corridor stretched on ahead of us, lit from below. Its walls and ceiling were built out of that same black grille, like a long, tunnel-shaped cage. I couldn't see anything through the walls. The darkness around us was so thick that the corridor could have been floating in empty space.

I took a step forward and forced myself to keep going. Every tiny sound was deafening, Harry's footsteps, the rustle of Ladyhawk's feathers. Another light snapped on ahead of us, then a third. Something metallic glinted at the end of the corridor, a hundred feet away.

My spider-sense began to tingle at the base of my skull, a faint, warning whisper. _Danger._

Numbing fear trickled through my veins. I tried to swallow, but my throat was so dry I almost gagged. This was the place. I didn't know how I knew, but I did. This was the trap and we were walking straight into it, and any second the jaws would slam shut.

My feet dragged over the floor. Every step was like slogging through liquid lead. Mom, Dad, Benny, Andrea. Where were they? What had Anubis done to them? What if we were already too…

I clenched my fists so hard they started to tremble. No. No! They were alive. They were all right. They had to be. _They had to be!_

"Mayday?"

A hand touched my shoulder. I jumped and saw Harry was walking beside me. The light from below threw deep shadows across his mask, like scars. "You're shaking."

I finally managed to swallow. "I'm fine."

The glint at the end of the corridor resolved itself into a gleaming set of steel doors. Our footsteps echoed in the darkness. The door glided towards us, twenty feet away, ten, five.

I stopped. The doors loomed over me. Above them, set in the wall, was a strip of smooth black glass that looked like a motion sensor.

The tingle of my spider-sense became a buzz like an electric current. I felt sweat break out on my forehead and palms, soaking my mask and gloves.

I looked back. Harry was silent, and what I could see of Ladyhawk's face was blank. Nacht nodded. "Ready," he said.

Ladyhawk fluttered her wings and flexed her claws. Harry slid a long cylinder from the back of his gauntlet. Three wicked blades snapped out, forming his razored trident.

I turned around and sucked in a deep breath. _They're alive._

I stepped forward. A stream of metallic clicks rang out like tiny gunshots from inside the doors. Something whirred, air hissed, and the doors slid open.

Light blazed. I squeezed my eyes shut, wincing. I opened my eyes a slit as the glare faded, squinted, and gasped. "Oh, my…"

I couldn't finish. The room was gigantic, bigger than a football field. A gleaming metal floor spread out in front of us, surrounded by a curved steel wall nearly a hundred feet high, with another set of doors opposite us. There was no roof. The entire place was open to the sky, and the lights streaming from the walls were so bright that the circle of sky was only a pitch-black, yawning void.

"What is that?" Nacht murmured.

I looked down from the sky and stared. In the middle of the metal floor a platform of at least twenty massive golden solar panels tilted up like insect wings, so huge that I couldn't believe I'd missed it.

A circle of raised metal panels ringed it, all framed by a trio of projectors. They were teleportation portals, exactly like the one in the Quest Aerospace building.

Something clicked in my head. Of course. It made sense— the portals needed the solar plant to generate enough energy to power them. But _why_? What was all of this for?

"Where is everyone?" Ladyhawk muttered.

I looked around. She was right— there was no sign of life anywhere. Everything was perfectly still.

I swallowed and started walking, out into the room. It seemed to take forever to reach the solar plant, and the floor beyond it seemed endless, the doors eternally distant. I shivered and hoped that this time no one had noticed. I had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, like a bug on a plate.

"That's it," Harry murmured.

I turned. "Huh?"

He pointed up. "Look."

I looked up. A faint shimmer of color rippled across the black sky, almost like an aurora. "An electromagnetic dampening field," he said. "It's masking the all of the energy from the portals and the solar plant. That's why I didn't pick up any signals— it's only covering this area. The field's probably calibrated to scatter any emitted light, too."

He let out a low whistle. "This place is practically invisible."

Something buzzed. I turned just in time to catch Nacht flinching away from one of the portals. Green light flashed and a huge holographic map of North America unfolded in the air above the portal, with glowing crosshairs drifting over the middle of Canada.

Harry stared at the hologram, then at Nacht. "What did you do?"

Nacht watched the hologram uneasily. "Only… only this."

He swept his hand through the air over the panel. The crosshairs glided around the map, down over the Midwest into Mexico.

I heard Ladyhawk jerk and whirled around. She was a few yards away from the doors, her head cocked, her feathers bristling. "Someone's coming."

I heard them then, footsteps on the other side of the door. I tensed, clenched my fists. This was it.

The doors opened and a young man in a dark business suit stepped through, with a thin freckled face and blond hair so pale it was almost white. He stopped a few feet into the room, frowning down at the transparent clipboard in his hands. Then he looked up.

Harry moved first. Before the man could even scream Harry grabbed him by the collar and shoved him back into the corridor. I raced after him, Nacht and Ladyhawk on either side of me. The doors slid shut behind us.

Harry dropped the young man's collar. "Who are you?"

"W-W-Weygnd," the young man babbled, flattening himself against the wall. "S-Sanka Weygnd! I'm only an aide! P-please, let me go! I d-didn't do anything! I don't—"

Harry cut him off. "Where's Spider-Man? And his family?"

Sanka Weygnd stared at him. "You're…" He gulped loudly. "H-Harry Osborn?"

Harry froze. I heard his breathing stop. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Nacht's eyes widen, Ladyhawk tense.

Harry jerked his head suddenly, as if throwing something off. "Where _are_ they?" he growled.

Weygnd's face crumpled. "I can't! If…if _he_ finds out—"

I lunged past Harry and shoved Weygnd against the wall. "Tell me where they are!" I jerked his collar. "_Now!_"

"I…" Weygnd gulped. Tears welled in his eyes. "I…I…"

I pulled him away from the wall and spun him around to face the corridor. "Fine. Then _show_ us."

Weygnd stumbled forward and almost fell. He slapped his hand against the wall and leaned against it, breathing in short, popping gasps. "All right." His voice was a sob. "All right."

He pushed himself up and pointed weakly down the corridor. "This way."

He started walking. We followed silently. I stayed just behind him, trying to think over the buzzing of my spider-sense. What was wrong with me? I'd _never_ treated anyone like that before, not even the people I'd fought. It was almost as if that hadn't been me at all, as if I were so dead inside that someone else had taken over.

I found myself hearing again what Ladyhawk had said, a few hours or centuries ago. _Kill your emotions. That's how you win, Spider-Girl._

I stifled an insane urge to giggle. That was all the proof I needed— something was wrong with me if I was taking advice from Ladyhawk.

Behind me, Harry cleared his throat. His voice was low and measured, as if he were trying to sound as emotionless as he could. "What makes you think I'm Harry Osborn?"

Weygnd didn't look back. "Who else _could_ you be?"

A weak chuckle hacked out of his throat. "He's been watching you for years. He's been waiting for the right time to bring you here. He tried to kill your aunt so that it would be easier for him to get _you_."

Harry's voice wavered. "What?"

Weygnd continued as if he hadn't heard him. "But when that failed, he tried again. He found a way to get everything he needs. Spider-Girl would come for her family. And you'd do anything to help Spider-Girl."

Weygnd chuckled again. It sounded like he was being strangled. "It's brilliant, you know," he said. "His plan worked. You're here, Spider-Girl. And so are you, Harry Osborn."

His eyes slid to Nacht. "_You're_ lucky. If he finds a purpose for you, you'll live." He turned to Ladyhawk and shook his head. "But not you. He's already deemed you a failure," he said. "You'll be disposed of."

Ladyhawk's eyes blazed. Nacht grabbed her arm just before she lunged. "No," he said. "Let him talk. Words are nothing."

He turned to Weygnd. I could never have imagined an expression like that on his face, a molten glare that turned his eyes to sulfur-colored slits. "Most of all words like his."

Weygnd shoved himself away from the wall and slammed his fist against the panel beside the door. It slid open.

"Who's _he_?" Harry asked suddenly. "Anubis?"

Weygnd looked over his shoulder. His face was blank.

"No," he said.

We kept going, down another corridor and through a door at least a foot thick. The corridor behind it looked completely different from the other ones we'd seen— its walls were black, corrugated steel and thick, humming pipes ran the length of the ceiling and twisted out of sight. The air was colder here, and with every step I could feel the chill growing even stronger, piercing the fabric of my suit. I felt goosebumps rise on my arms. This was a dungeon.

Weygnd stopped in front of a thick metal door with a huge circular lock in its center, like something from a submarine hatch. He pointed. "There. The boy's in there."

Benny. I grabbed the spokes and twisted the lock off the door. The door creaked and slowly swung open. I took a deep breath and stepped inside.

The room was a tiny square cell, barely ten feet across. A single light embedded in the ceiling cast a pale square in the middle of the floor, but in the shadows behind it, curled up against the wall and staring at me, was Benny.

"Benny?" I whispered.

Benny looked at me blankly, his face still, his eyes hooded and dead.

"Benny…" I stepped forward, into the square of light. "It's me."

Benny's eyes flew open. "M-…_Mayday?_" he croaked.

Before I could say a word he scrambled up and threw his arms around me. "I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Benny…"

"I didn't mean to! I'm sorry!" Tears streamed down his face. "I didn't—"

"Benny, it's okay! Listen!" I pulled away. "It wasn't your fault. Come on, we've got to get—"

Benny didn't seem to be hearing anything I said. "It was Anubis. He talked to me, in my head. I didn't know who he was." He sniffed. "But he listened to me. I could tell him anything. And when I…"

He took a deep breath. "I saw on the news what happened in Central Park. And…and when Dad got shot…"

His face crumpled. "I told him. He said he could help me. He said…he said he was a scientist. And he could _help_ me. He could…alter my genes so I'd develop my spider-powers earlier. So I could help you and Dad. So…so no one would get hurt anymore."

He squeezed his eyes shut. Tears leaked from between his eyelids. "But I…I said I didn't know if Mom and Dad would be all right with that. So he said he could come himself and tell them. I just had to make sure that we were all there, so he could explain it to everyone. And then he…" He looked up. "I didn't know who he was. I didn't. I _didn't_."

"I know you didn't, Benny," I whispered. A horrible ache grew in the pit of my stomach, almost as if someone had punched me, but worse. "You couldn't have known."

Benny's head sagged onto his chest. "But I…I got us into this and you're going to hate me and—"

"Benny, I would _never_ hate you!" I put my hands on his shoulders. "Look at me! No one's going to hate you! Not me, not Mom and Dad! Do you hear me? We would _never_ hate you!"

Benny looked up and stiffened, staring past me, his eyes huge. I turned. Harry, Ladyhawk, and Nacht were standing just outside the door, looking in. Weygnd cowered behind them.

"Don't worry," I said quickly. "That's Harry, see? And they're Nacht and Ladyhawk. They're friends."

Benny looked from Nacht to Ladyhawk, his eyes stretching even wider. "Oh…oh, wow."

I took his hand, relieved that at least now he had something else to think about. "Come on," I said. "Let's get out of here."

I led him out of the cell, into the corridor. "You okay, Benny?" Harry asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." Benny nodded, looking uneasily between Nacht and Ladyhawk. "Uh…hi."

Ladyhawk stared back at him expressionlessly. Nacht elbowed her and smiled without showing his teeth. "_Hallo._"

Benny nodded, his mouth open. I turned back to Weygnd. "Okay," I said. "Keep going."

Weygnd didn't meet my eyes. "The girl's on the same level," he muttered, waving vaguely down the corridor.

"Fine. Let's go."

Weygnd turned and started walking slowly down the corridor. I followed him, Benny beside me. Andrea's cell was a few yards away, with a door that looked exactly like Benny's, except that on the wall beside it was some kind of control panel, with a speaker and what looked like a call button.

I wrenched the lock off the door, let it swing open, and saw her.

Andrea was in the corner of the tiny cell, slumped against the wall. Her hair was tangled and her eyeliner was smeared into dark patches beneath her eyes. She'd been crying.

I stared at her, frozen. A wave of nausea and fear and rage and a hundred other sickening feelings surged through me like venom.

Andrea. It was _her_ behind that smear of makeup and tears. The Andrea who had seen me helpless and laughed. The Andrea who hated me more than anything, who didn't care what happened to any of us as long as she got what she wanted.

I shut my eyes beneath my mask and sucked in another deep breath. I had to forget it, or at least shove it away. None of that mattered now.

I opened my eyes. "Are you okay?"

Andrea nodded slowly.

I jerked my head towards the door. "Come on. We're getting out of here."

Andrea climbed to her feet. I turned and headed back into the corridor. I couldn't bring myself to say anything else. I didn't want to talk to her, didn't even want to look at her.

Andrea stepped out into the corridor and covered her eyes against the light. "Ow…"

She rubbed her eyes, blinked, and stumbled back. Her eyes darted frantically to Harry, to Nacht, and then to Ladyhawk, who was leaning against the wall, holding on to Weygnd's collar and making a show of examining her claws.

Ladyhawk looked up from her claws and narrowed her eyes. "Something interest you?"

Andrea made a strangled noise and turned a shade paler. Harry held up his hands. "It's okay." His opaque yellow eye shields retracted into his helmet. His eyelids crinkled as if he were smiling, or at least trying to. "No one's going to hurt you. You're safe."

Andrea stared. "H-…" She swallowed. "H-_Harry?_"

Harry hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Sometimes I wonder why I wear this thing."

Andrea sank back against the wall, her mouth open. "Oh…"

Ladyhawk coughed pointedly. "Touching as this reunion is, is this really the time for—"

Weygnd ripped free of Ladyhawk's grip, dashed for the wall and slammed his fist against the call button. "_Intruders_!" he screamed. "Intruders in the—"

Ladyhawk lunged at him and sank her talons into his shoulders. Weygnd screamed.

"_Ladyhawk_!" I grabbed her arm and hauled her away. Weygnd hit the floor, scrambled to his feet, and ran. His footsteps echoed and faded.

Ladyhawk shoved me away. "Are you a _complete_ idiot?" she snarled. "The rat's going to—"

A siren started to wail in the distance. I didn't need to think about this one. I grabbed Benny and picked him up. "I think he already got what he wanted, so _run!_"

Benny threw his arms around my neck and I took off down the corridor, Harry right behind me, Andrea clutching his arm. Nacht teleported along with us, keeping pace, and Ladyhawk raced after Harry in her weird, stumbling gait, her wings flapping for balance with every step. I tore around a corner and kept going, my brain racing as fast as my legs. How were we going to find Mom and Dad _now_? Whoever was running this place knew we were here, could be watching us right now, waiting…

The doors ahead of us slid open and we hurtled through into another huge room, with dark metal walls embedded with control panels. A line of huge windows above them overlooked a canyon lit with at least ten huge floodlights, all trained on a metal framework stretching out into empty space. It looked like some kind of construction site.

The doors slammed shut behind us. I heard locks clank.

I knew what was coming. "Benny, Andrea, get behind us!" I yelled. "Everyone, back-to-back!"

Harry jumped onto his glider and spun in the air, hovering a few inches off the floor. Ladyhawk spread her wings like a shield.

Something whirred in the darkness. My throat clenched. _Oh, no_.

Metal gleamed silver in the dim light as they appeared out of the shadows, at least eight feet tall, standing on four jointed metal legs. Above that was a humanoid torso, with something that looked like a head with a narrow bar of black glass that curved around where its eyes would have been. Two gun turrets rose from behind it, ammunition belts looping from the firing chambers. Four arms stretched from its shoulders, all ending in long, scythelike blades.

There were thirty of them.

Ladyhawk flexed her claws. "Well, well, well," she murmured. "Just like old times."

The robots started advancing in unison, each step perfectly synchronized. Their gunports gleamed.

"Nacht," I whispered. "You've got to get them out of here. Back above ground. Hide them."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Benny's head whip around. "Huh?"

Nacht nodded. "I remember way. But then I will come back."

"Nacht…"

His voice was fierce. "_I fight with you_."

Benny's voice was shrill. "I'm not leaving!" He grabbed my arm. "I'm want to help!"

The lead robot's gun turrets swiveled to point straight at us. My spider-sense shrieked.

"_Move_!" I yelled.

We leaped. Bullets tore into the door behind us. I flipped in the air and landed on my feet as Nacht helped Andrea up. "Nacht! _Do it!_"

"Wait!" Nacht spun around and flung something towards me. He whirled back and lunged, grabbed Benny and whipped his tail around Andrea's waist.

Benny looked up frantically. "Wait!" he yelled. "Mayday, w—"

They vanished. The thing Nacht had thrown flew towards me. I dove forward, fired a webline and snatched it out of the air. It was Doc's antidote.

I shoved the ring over my finger as two robots rushed at me, blades slicing the air. I threw a webline at the first one's legs and leaped just as the other one swung a blade that would have cut me in half. I twisted and clung to the ceiling, my heart hammering and my spider-sense howling, and shoved myself away a split second before the robot's turrets swiveled and fired. A red flash seared past my face. I landed in a crouch, dodged a volley of bullets, and saw the smoking crater in the ceiling.

"Oh, man, _again_?"

The robot swung towards me again. A red glow flared in its gunports. I whipped my arm up and shot a webline straight into its sensor. It rocked back, blades flailing. Double red beams lanced out of its turrets and blasted two baseball-sized holes through one of the windows. I shot web from both wrists, threw myself into a swing, and crashed feetfirst into the robot's head. It slammed into the wall and collapsed, sparking.

Explosions roared around me. I was barely thinking anymore, just following my spider-sense as it screamed for me to dodge left, right, up, down, kicking and webslinging and leaping out of the way of blades and bullets that missed me by millimeters. Through the mayhem I caught flashes of Harry's glider firing missiles into a crowd of robots, Ladyhawk's claws slashing through a sensor. Severed turrets and blades flew everywhere, twitching and smoking.

A robot lunged at me just as Ladyhawk dragged another one into the air. I fired two weblines at the robot's chest, felt them connect, and swung them like a whip just as Ladyhawk dropped the other one. The robot flew off the ground and smashed into the falling robot. They hurtled across the room, crashed through the last window, and plummeted into the canyon.

Ladyhawk landed beside me. "I see your scruples don't extend to machines."

I gritted my teeth. "Not in the least."

Ladyhawk smirked and shot into the air with one flap of her wings. I flipped out of the way of a laser blast, flung a webline at the robot's legs…and saw them.

A line shadows was slinking along the far wall. They were too small to be robots, their movements too smooth.

Harry soared over my head and hurled a grenade. It hit a robot and exploded in a blast of fire. Pieces of metal rained down and clanged against the floor, a few feet away from the shadows. I could see them clearly now, black-helmeted guards holding rifles with huge scopes perched on their stocks.

Snipers.

Ladyhawk dived at a robot, ripped one of its turrets off, and flapped away as it swung a blade at her. I saw one sniper's hands tighten on his gun, the glint of light sliding along its barrel as he aimed. "Ladyhawk!" I yelled. "_Behind you!_"

Ladyhawk spun in the air. A gunshot exploded.

Time stopped. Every sound muted, every movement blended into a motionless whirl.

Ladyhawk jerked. Her wings flapped once, weakly. She wavered, seemed to hang in the air, and then she fell.

_No. _That one word, just that one word. _No. No. No._

Ladyhawk crashed to the floor. Her left wing snapped as it twisted under her.

"Ladyhawk," I whispered. "No. _Ladyhawk!_"

Ladyhawk lay still. A dark pool crept out from under her and spread, staining her feathers.

My joints unlocked. I shot a webline at the ceiling and flipped over the robot swiveling towards me. I had to get her out of here. She couldn't be…she couldn't be already…

A laser blazed past my head. I handsprung backwards and hit the robot feetfirst. It flew back and crashed into another one. I somersaulted to my feet and froze.

My left hand had hit the floor next to Ladyhawk. My glove was soaked in blood.

Harry's voice and my spider-sense screamed at the same time. "_Look out!_"

Harry lunged out of nowhere and tackled me. We slammed into the floor just as the ceiling collapsed. The impact rattled my teeth. I twisted around and saw a wall of twisted metal just a few feet away from my face, a gigantic metal beam thicker than my waist holding it up. We were in a corner of the room, in a tiny space barely six feet wide. Trapped.

Sweat was running into my eyes beneath my mask. I tried to stand and fell again. Blood streaked the floor where my hand had slid.

Harry pushed himself up and sank against the wall. His helmet was cracked and both eye shields were shattered, and he was breathing in deep, wheezing gasps.

"L-Ladyhawk," I croaked. "I think…I think she's…"

"I know," Harry gasped. "I saw."

Muffled voices leaked through the wall of debris. The snipers. Something buzzed, and suddenly a piercing whine rattled through the air. White-hot sparks sprayed from the huge metal beam and fell sizzling to the floor. The beam started to smoke.

"Diamond saw." Harry's voice shook. "They're coming through."

I barely understood him, barely heard at all. Ladyhawk. I had just seen her, talked to her. And now she was lying motionless in a pool of blood.

I felt numb. Someone could have punched me in the head and I wouldn't have felt any pain. Ladyhawk, Nacht, Harry. They had all come because of me, followed me here, risked their lives for me. And now one of us was dead. _Dead_.

My responsibility. My fault.

"Harry," I choked out. "You have to get back to the portals."

Harry turned. "Wh-…what?"

"You've got to find them. Nacht and Benny and Andrea." I gasped another breath. "Get back to New York."

"What are you going to do?"

Strings of smoke were rising from the beam. The saw was a quarter of the way through. "I'm going to find Mom and Dad."

Harry shook his head. "No. I'm not going anywhere."

"There's too many of them." I swallowed. "They'll kill you."

"Then I'm dying with you."

I stared at him. Through his broken eye shields I could see the sweat running down his face, the edge of a darkening bruise, and the fear in his eyes.

Harry stared back, and in that moment, looking back at him, I realized. He meant it.

"Harry…" It was even harder to talk than before. "Harry, you can't—"

Harry cut me off. He kept his eyes steady on my mask. "I'm not leaving you," he said softly.

A spray of metal splinters shot from the beam. I turned. The saw was only halfway through. They were taking their time.

Taking their time…

I turned back to Harry. "Why are we just sitting here?"

Harry stared at me blankly, but then his eyes came to life. He glanced at the glowing saw, and then back to me. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah. Why are we?"

I nodded. My pulse pounded at my temples. I looked down at my hands, at the glove stained with Ladyhawk's blood.

_Your fault, Spider-Girl._

Harry straightened beside me and reached for something on the floor beside him. His trident.

I closed my fist. I couldn't let anyone else die.

I _wouldn't_ let anyone else die.

Harry looked at me. "On three?"

I jerked another nod and climbed to my feet. Harry followed. I heard him swallow. "One…"

The saw whined. Three-quarters of the way through.

"Two…"

Then it happened. My spider-sense disappeared, as completely as if someone had flipped a switch.

My blood turned to ice. _He's here._

Harry grabbed my hand. "_Go!_"

We crashed through the wall. Metal slammed into my ribs and ripped through the arms of my suit. Voices screamed. The saw blew past my face, so close I felt its heat. I stumbled through what was left of the wall and almost fell.

It really hit me then, as I fought for balance. My spider-sense. Without my spider-sense I wouldn't be able to—

Pain spiked through my shoulder and down my arm. I clapped my hand against my shoulder and felt something there, piercing my suit. A dart.

My arm went numb. The antidote fell from my hand and rolled away across the floor.

"No," I whispered. "No, no, _no!_"

My legs buckled. My head banged against the floor. I felt the numbness creeping up through my chest, into my face. My arms and legs were dead weights. I could breathe, could feel my heart battering against my ribs, but my body was as limp as if my bones had melted.

Harry hurled a robot away and saw me. Horror dawned in his eyes. He started to run towards me, snipers and robots closing in behind him, and…

A shadow blotted him out, a silhouette with twin sickles hanging from his belt and a mask shaped like the head of a jackal.

That horrible monotone echoed through my mind. _Welcome to the underworld, Spider-Girl_, it said._ We have been expecting you._

My brain felt as numb as my body. I'd used up all my fear.

Anubis's jackal head tilted up, surveyed the room. _I see that you have released a pair of hostages. No matter. They will be recovered._

The shadow lengthened. Steel-hard fingers clamped around the back of my neck. The floor swooped away and my head sagged onto my chest as Anubis turned. He started to walk away, towards the cratered doors.

A wave of panic crashed into me. No. _No_! This couldn't happen! I had to help Harry, I had to find Mom and Dad…if I could just _move_…

Anubis's voice droned in my head. _Your efforts to circumvent the paralytic, though amusing, are useless._

Something inside me froze. Not even my mind belonged to me anymore. He could hear everything I thought.

I fought to form the words. _What do you want with me?_

_What do_ I_ want with you?_ Anubis repeated. _A foolish question._

The door slid open. _Anubis does not rule the land of the dead_. _He only guards the threshold._

The hallway ahead looked exactly the same as all the others. Anubis's footsteps clanged against the metal, as clipped and even as a machine's. _Now the threshold has been crossed, and what was once prey is now baiting the trap._

Anubis turned a corner. The corridor dead-ended at another door.

_Where are my parents?_

Anubis was silent.

_Where are they?_ I screamed.

The door hissed open. Anubis went through and stopped. The door shut behind him.

The room in front of us looked like it had been transplanted from a fancy Manhattan loft. A thick carpet covered the floor and dim light from stylized wall lamps shone on dark oil paintings hanging on the wood-paneled walls, but the shadows were thick.

Anubis tossed me forward. My face slammed hard against the floor.

A voice spoke, low and grating. "Was she alone?"

Anubis spoke aloud. "No."

"And were you seen?"

"Yes."

"Good."

A shoe hooked under my shoulder and kicked me over onto my back. A man stood over me, looking down. He was lean and wiry, with gray-streaked brown hair brushed back from his forehead, and wearing an expensive dark business suit and shoes that reflected the dim light. He crouched down beside me. The shadows slid away, and I saw him.

His face was pale and made entirely of angles: a sharp nose, jutting cheekbones, a thin-lipped mouth turned downward at the corners, slicing his face like a dry wound. He could have been anyone. There was nothing terrifying about his face. But his eyes…

I knew those eyes, that shape, that pale gray. But they weren't the same. They gleamed with an intensity that seemed barely human, as if his face were just a mask for something else, something rabid but controlled, something cold and savage and cruel.

The eyes narrowed and glanced up. "Is she conscious?"

Anubis's nodded once. The man's gaze slid back to me.

"You know who I am, don't you?" he whispered.

Every thought in my brain ground to a halt. I couldn't even breathe.

He reached out, grabbed my chin and turned my head until I was looking straight into his face. "Yes," he said. "I'm sure the story of how your father so _heroically_ defeated me has become a family legend by now."

A low, harsh laugh scraped out of his throat. "Yet another legend about to be—"

The wall behind him exploded with a roar. Shards of wood and metal shot through the air like arrows and smashed craters in the walls. The smoking frame of a painting crashed into the floor inches from my head and shattered. Chips of wood bounced off my face and fell to the carpet, smoldering.

The smoke billowing from what was left of the wall swirled as Harry leaped off his glider and landed in a crouch on the floor. His armor was scorched and blackened, his shoulders heaved as he gasped for air. The trident shook in his hand. "_Where_ _is_ _she_?"

Above me, the corner of the man's mouth crept up in a smile.

The memory of Anubis's words seared through my brain like a laser. _What was once prey is now baiting the trap._

Prey that had become bait. Me.

The man rose to his feet and turned to face him. "Harry?"

Harry froze.

"It's me, Harry." I could hear the smile in the man's voice. "It's been too long."

The trident clattered to the floor. Harry reached up, pulled off his helmet and let it fall. Deep bruises smudged his face and his hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat. His eyes were huge, his face blank and rigid with shock.

The man took a step towards him. Harry didn't move. The man stopped in front of him, laid his hands on Harry's shoulders, and smiled.

"You've finally come home," he said. "Son."

He pulled Harry into an embrace. Harry stood stiff, frozen, but then, slowly, he folded his arms around his father and they stood, holding each other, amid the burning rubble.


	24. Chapter Twenty Three: A Real Goblin

Chapter Twenty-Three

Harry pulled away. "H-…_how_?"

His voice was strangled. "I…I saw you. Eight years ago. You…you were…"

"Dead?" The Goblin shook his head. "No. Close, but not dead."

He took a step back. "Just look at you. You're a young man now." A thin smile crossed his face. "Someone I can be proud of."

Harry stared at him, his face stiff and blank. The dim light shone in his eyes, glittered on tears.

_Get away from him, _I thought helplessly. _Get out of here!_

Harry turned away, blinking against the tears, and saw me. "Mayday," he whispered. The last hint of color in his face drained away. "_Mayday!_"

He leaped over a swath of debris and dropped to his knees beside me. "Mayday!" He grabbed my wrist, felt under my jaw. "Talk to me!"

He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me up. My head fell back. The room spun around dizzyingly and stopped on Anubis, standing motionless in front of the wreckage of the door.

"No…oh, God, no…please…" He was holding me, cradling my head, his face inches away and twisted with panic. "_Mayday!_"

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the Goblin watching him. A spasm rippled across his face, like a tiny seizure, and melted into a shadow of a sneer. "There's no need for any emotional displays. She's only paralyzed."

He turned away and walked slowly to where Harry's glider was hovering. He reached out and ran his hand over the surface. The metal rippled under his fingers. "Cendequatrium," he said. "Well done."

He circled the glider, examining it. "I see you didn't include the anterior blades on this model. Good idea. I remember those." He chuckled softly. "Went straight through me."

He looked up, smiling again. "I owe it all to Anubis, actually. He's a brilliant scientist, utterly brilliant. He was the one who developed the compounds that kept me alive after that little…incident."

Harry's eyes flickered to Anubis, back to his father. "You…" He swallowed. "All…all this time…he's been working for _you_?"

"Naturally." The Goblin tapped something on the glider's surface. The liquid metal fragmented and the glider started to fold in on itself. "I have too many enemies to risk being careless. Anubis created a neurochemical trigger that would activate if I sustained a wound that could be fatal. It reduced me to a near-death state while my body repaired itself." The glider finished compacting and dropped onto his palm. He folded his fingers around it. "Trust me, there aren't many things more unpleasant than waking up in a morgue."

I could feel Harry shaking. "I…I never knew…"

"Spider-Girl did," the Goblin said. "She found out nearly a week ago. Using a device you built, if I remember correctly." He raised an eyebrow sardonically. "Didn't she tell you?"

Harry's grip loosened.

The Goblin shook his head. "Of course she didn't." His lip curled. "She'd never take the risk."

He turned away, towards a painting I thought I'd seen before. "It's taken me a long time to arrange everything. There were so many variables to take into account. _Her_ interference included," he said, his eyes still on the painting. I recognized it now. Goya. _Saturno devorando a su hijo._ "But I've succeeded, as I always do. You're back where you belong."

Something tingled at the base of my skull. I couldn't move but somehow I was feeling something, faint but getting stronger…

My _spider_-_sense_?

My mind whirled. My spider-sense was working again, and I could only think of one reason why: Anubis wasn't concentrating on me anymore. I was paralyzed; what could I do?

The Goblin turned back to Harry. "I'm telling you this to prove myself to you. Now that you're old enough to understand, to realize what I've accomplished."

He spread his arms. "I've rebuilt it. I've rebuilt it all. Everything we once had, wealth, power, more. The underworlds of every continent are in my debt. Laboratories all over the world are manufacturing my designs. I have dictators with all of their spies and armies groveling for just a _glimpse_ of the technologies I've created." He lowered his arms. "And it's all been for you."

He smiled again. It didn't reach his eyes. "I never abandoned you. I've always looked out for you, protected you. When you were ready I arranged for my will to be found so you could receive your inheritance and learn the truth."

"But… but Aunt Beth," Harry choked out. "They tried to…_you_ tried to—"

The Goblin cut him off. "She was no longer useful. I meant to do you a favor, to help you sever all ties to your old life. She would have been an unnecessary complication."

Harry's voice echoed in my head. _I'd disappear into the system_.

The pieces were falling together. Harry was too noticeable. The news about his inheritance and new life had been all over the papers for months. But if Beth McKay had died that night and Harry had gone to jail, after the media storm died down he would have become just another number, just another uniform. If someone manipulated the records and bribed enough people, he could vanish off the face of the earth and no one would have known.

And he'd have nothing to go back to.

"Why?" Harry whispered. "All of this…" He swallowed. "_Why?_"

"Why?"

The Goblin stared at him. A frown creased his forehead, as if he couldn't believe what he'd just heard. "Because you're my son," he said. "And I love you."

Harry shuddered. He looked away and squeezed his eyes shut. Tears leaked from between his eyelids.

"M-Mayday," he stammered. "Her family."

The Goblin's eyes narrowed. "There _are_ some things I take personally," he said. A growl crept into his voice. "Attempts on my life are one of them."

Harry opened his eyes. The muscles in his face tightened into a corpselike mask.

The Goblin looked up, past Harry, at something only he could see. "Parker never should have crossed me. And soon he'll pay the price." A slow, malevolent smile split his face. "After watching the rest of his family go before him."

Complete, mind-numbing horror seeped over me like cold lead.

Harry lifted his head. "No," he whispered. "No. You can't."

"Why not?" The Goblin tilted his head towards me, his smile warping into a smirk. "Because of her?"

Harry didn't answer.

The Goblin snorted. "What is she? A freak of nature, just like her father. Both random mutations that try to justify their existence with bleeding-heart rhetoric and a few futile acts of charity."

Out of nowhere something hit me with a jolt. I'd looked at Harry, then at the Goblin.

My eyes. _I had moved my eyes_.

My mind raced. My entire body felt like it was pinned under a thousand-pound weight, but the drug was wearing off, it had to be…

The Goblin shook his head. "You're better than that, Harry," he said. "Old attachments are irrelevant now that you're here. Now that you're ready to complete what you've already begun."

Harry stared at him. A rivulet of sweat trickled from under his hair. "Wh-what?"

Another spasm rippled across the Goblin's face. He twitched his head, almost as if dismissing something. His face arranged itself again into that threadlike smile. "The formula's still running through your blood. It gives you strength, speed. But that's not everything. They robbed you of something, Harry. _She_ took it away from you."

His voice grew softer, more intense. "You wanted revenge on her for the crimes of her father, but think of the crime _she_ committed. She killed your other half, took away your soul to suit herself and the masses of weaklings she claims to protect."

The thin smile cracked. The light glinted on his teeth. "But that can be remedied."

The Goblin leaned forward, his eyes fixed on Harry's. "I have the means. I can save you, resurrect what you were, who you were meant to be. My son, my heir."

His jaw clenched and his lips drew back in a grin, a snarl, a horrible combination. "_And you can make her pay_."

Harry's grip tightened. "No," he whispered. "No. Not Mayday."

The Goblin took a step forward and crouched down in front of us, inches away. My spider-sense wailed.

"It's hard, isn't it," he said softly. He reached for Harry's shoulder. Something glinted in his hand. "Just thinking about it."

Harry flinched. A drop of blood beaded on his neck. "What—"

The Goblin's hand tightened on Harry's shoulder. "But think about something else," he said. "Look at me, Harry."

Harry raised his head. "Think back," the Goblin said. "Remember that short time you had before she ruined you. Yes. You remember what it was like, don't you, son?"

The carpet prickled against the back of my right glove. Feeling was creeping back into my hands, out towards the tips of my fingers.

And if I could just bend my fingers…

The Goblin was still talking. His voice was soft, hypnotic. "You were invincible," he whispered. "Everything was yours. You were above all the rest, beyond them. You were something else, something _new_, and they were insignificant. They were bugs, bacteria, mindless drones scurrying through their meaningless little lives without a thought for anything greater, without even a clue that you were there and could obliterate them all like the vermin they are."

Harry blinked slowly, narrowed his eyes, as if he were trying to concentrate but somehow couldn't. "Hobgoblin," he murmured. "Not me."

"No, Harry. You. The true you." The Goblin's eyes gleamed. "You've been restrained for too long. The formula only released what was inside you, what you truly are. You fought with him because what he wanted didn't parallel the ideas _they_ made you swallow, _their_ morals, _their_ laws."

Harry turned away. His teeth were gritted, his eyes squeezed shut. "I…"

The Goblin reached out and forced Harry's head up until he was staring straight into his eyes. "You know I'm telling the truth," he said. "He's still there. He'll never be gone. You can't wish him away just because he doesn't fit their standards. Who are _they_ to say what's right and what isn't? We're not like them anymore."

Harry's voice sounded distant, dulled. "No," he whispered. "He… he wasn't me. He was a monster. He was—"

"Evil?" the Goblin interrupted. "Or you mean, like _me_?"

He shook his head, almost indulgently. "Good and evil are arbitrary definitions," he said. "More of their petty moralizing. But real life is never that simple. The world isn't the Manichean place they'd have you believe it is."

He waved vaguely towards the dark paintings on the walls. "We're all beings of light and shadow, _chiaroscuro_. Some parts of us are dominant, some are subordinate. Everyone, you, me, even your holier-than-thou little friend here…" He jerked his head towards me. "…Are composed of those different facets." A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "It's just a little more obvious in some of us."

Harry's breathing had slowed. His eyes were dulled, dark. His pupils were dilated.

An image flashed through my brain. The glint in the Goblin's hand, the blood on Harry's neck. He'd done something, _injected_ something…

The scream was only in my head. _Harry! Wake up! Don't listen to him!_

"Trust me, Harry. I'm your father. I wouldn't lie to you," the Goblin whispered. "I know what you're feeling, I know you're scared. I was scared too, at first, but I didn't have to be. And neither do you."

Harry's face had gone blank, his grip was weakening, but those soft, slithering words wouldn't stop. "Think. Remember who you truly are. You can still feel him inside you, waiting. Don't be afraid of him. He's _you._ Embrace him. He'll free you. Once you make the change there's no remorse, no more questioning, no more pain. You're purged of human weakness."

I could tense my arms. Pins and needles were prickling through the muscles in my legs. _Harry! Don't listen to him! Wake up! WAKE UP!_

The Goblin smiled. "No, Harry. I'm not evil," he said. "I'm _free_."

The voice replayed itself in my mind, over and over, and finally sank in.

No. It couldn't be. No one, not even Hobgoblin could say what he had said, so calmly, so coldly. But he wasn't like Hobgoblin; I remembered Hobgoblin. He had been a seething, out-of-control creature of threats and hate and animal rage. But even as scared as I'd been, when I'd seen him lying crumpled and wounded there had been something to understand, a creature that was horrible but still somehow _human_…but no human being could actually think what he had just said, _believe_ that…it was too warped, sick, twisted…

_Insane._

"Trust me, son," the Goblin said softly. "You do trust me, don't you?"

Harry didn't answer. His face was still, his eyes half-closed.

And then, slowly, his head sank in a nod.

_Harry! Harry, no! _The weight was lifting, but slowly, much too slowly…

"You remember," the Goblin murmured. "You remember what you lost."

Harry's head sank again.

The Goblin's fingers closed around Harry's shoulder like claws. "And you want it back. You'd do _anything_ to get it back," he whispered. "Wouldn't you?"

Something stirred beneath Harry's deadened face. A gleam dawned in his eyes, flickered and spread until his entire face twisted into a vicious snarl. The voice that came out of his mouth wasn't Harry's. It was low, harsh, an animal growl.

"_Yes_."

_No._ The thought became a scream. _No! Harry!_

The Goblin nodded. "But there's still one thing holding you back," he said. "You know what it is."

Harry was silent.

"But why let her?" the Goblin murmured. "What is she to you? Who is she to drag you down? If she were gone you wouldn't hesitate. You wouldn't have any doubts."

I could feel my legs. I could clench my jaw.

_Harry!_

The Goblin's voice was stronger now. "Look at her. Look at her now."

Harry lowered his head. Fear froze my blood. It wasn't Harry holding me, staring down at me. It was someone else, someone I'd seen before, on a rooftop, on a rig, in my nightmares.

"_She_'s the one who destroyed you. _She_'s the one who lied to you," the Goblin breathed. "But look at her. She's helpless. It would be so easy to end it now. You could snap her neck like a—"

Harry flinched as if he'd been shocked. His eyes widened, awake, horrified.

The Goblin drew back. An ugly look darted across his face and vanished just as quickly. He started talking faster. "Think, Harry. Look at what I've done. Look at what you've done. Think of what we could accomplish together," he said. "Think of what we could _do!_"

He held out his hand. "Come with me, son. I'm here for you now. I'll help you, guide you. _Trust me._"

"_No_."

Harry's arms tightened around me, so hard I could barely breathe. "No." His voice was louder. "No." A scream ripped out of his throat. "No! No! _No!_"

Harry leaped up, swaying on his feet, his face dead white and drawn. "You tried to kill Aunt Beth. You killed Ladyhawk. And now you want me to…" His voice rose hysterically. "You think…_you_ _think_ _I'd_…"

"No."

The Goblin rose to his feet. "It's my fault. I've overestimated you again."

The ugly look crept back over his face and deepened. "I should have known you'd never have the strength. Just like you never had the guts to avenge me."

Harry staggered back as if he had stabbed him. I could feel his heart hammering through his armor.

The Goblin shook his head, never taking his eyes off him. "But do you know what I did when I found out?"

He took a step forward. Harry backed away.

The Goblin kept coming. "When I learned you'd decided your worst enemy was more important to you than your own father?"

Harry's back hit the wall. The Goblin stopped.

"I forgave you," he said. "After all, you're my son."

Air wheezed into Harry's lungs. "Maybe I'm your son." His fingers dug into my arms. "But I'm not like you."

The Goblin watched him calmly. "No, you're not like me," he said. "Not yet."

He jerked his head at Anubis. "Take them both below."

The weight was gone. I could move.

I took a deep breath and gritted my teeth."Guess again, Gobby."

I twisted out of Harry's arms, fired two weblines at the Goblin's legs and wrenched with all my strength. The Goblin hurtled away and smashed into the wall in an explosion of shelves and paintings. He slid to the floor, head sagging onto his chest as pieces of wood and sheetrock bounced off his shoulders. He didn't move.

I didn't wait. I whipped around and grabbed Harry's arm. "Come on!"

Anubis slowly stepped in front of the destroyed wall. His arms hung loosely at his sides, but his hands were clenched around the hilts of twin razored sickles.

A laugh started behind me, low and soft but growing louder with every second until it was a horrible, screaming cackle that shuddered through the air and my bones.

I turned around. I knew what I would see.

The Goblin was still sprawled in the crater where he had landed, his head thrown back, convulsing with laughter. In one movement he bounded away from the wall and landed in a crouch. Armor gleamed through the gashes in his suit.

"I'll give you points for the ambush, Junior." He straightened. "We'll have to rework that paralytic."

In that split second I was frozen again, as if the drug had come rushing back through my blood. This wasn't a nightmare. In front of me was someone worse than Hobgoblin or Black Widow or even Anubis, someone who could say what he had said and mean it,_ believe it,_ who took what he wanted and killed because he could. A psychopath. A murderer. A monster.

_Dad barely beat him. If _Dad_ barely stopped him, then I don't have a chance…_

I clenched my fists. Harry. No matter what happened, I couldn't let him get Harry.

The Goblin smirked. "How adorable."

My mouth was so dry it was all I could do to choke out the words. "Stay away from him."

He snorted. "Oh, I see. You're going to protect him like you protected your family."

He started walking, his hands behind his back, circling me like a predator. "No smart remark ready, May Parker?" he asked. "Odd. Your father would've tossed out ten by now."

He shook his head mockingly. "Or maybe you're just a sad imitation," he said. "Your father at least had _something_ to say when he saw me, even though it was just the usual spiel of threats and promises the defeated use to give themselves illusions of strength." He paused. "Well, I think that was what it was. He was having trouble talking with that clamp around his neck."

Rage surged through me like lightning. "_You…!_"

I whipped up my hands and fired web straight at his face. The Goblin jerked away. The web missed his face by a fraction of an inch, but I was already charging at him, pulling back my fist…

Faster than I could blink the Goblin's hand snapped shut around my throat. I grabbed his wrist, choking, fighting to pry him off. From a distance I could hear Harry's voice, screaming something I couldn't understand, but the Goblin's fingers kept closing, crushing…

He laughed softly, his lips pulling back in a hideous grin. "Never fought a _real_ goblin before, have you?"

He hurled me away. Before I could websling the wall crashed into my back. Something cracked in my ribs.

_Get up_, I thought numbly. He was stronger than me, much too strong, but I had to get up, I had to fight, no matter what happened…

"Schoolyard tactics won't cut it here, May," the Goblin said. He raised his arms. Two pairs of huge hooked blades ripped through the forearms of his jacket. "You're in the major league now."

My spider-sense shrieked. I jerked away just as a blade slashed the air a millimeter from my face. The Goblin grabbed me and slammed my head against the wall. White flashes exploded in front of my eyes. I swung around whipped my elbow into his head. The Goblin stumbled back.

I shoved myself away from the wall and landed on my feet. I couldn't let him see how afraid I was, couldn't let him know…

I gulped in a lungful of air. Searing pain stabbed through my chest as I shouted, "So you're a _real_ goblin, huh? Wow. You're tougher than I thought. I guess I figured someone with your track record would be more worried about playing with knives."

The Goblin's smile evaporated. "So you _have_ inherited your father's mouth."

He lunged. "_And his stupidity!_"

A split second later I was enveloped in a tornado of flashing blades, dodging, kicking, punching, my heartbeat roaring in my ears, pain spiking through my chest, panic ripping through my brain. _He's too strong, he's too fast, but I can't lose, if I lose I'll die, we'll all die, he's going to kill us…_

Harry's voice cut the air. "No!" he screamed. "_Stop!_"

The Goblin's fist smashed into my face. I reeled back and sprang out of the way just in time to keep from being skewered on a broken steel beam. The Goblin charged at me, slashing at my head. I caught his wrist, twisted around and heaved. He hit the floor and kicked my legs out from under me. I slammed my hand flat against the floor and threw a scissor kick at his chest. _Can't lose, can't lose, can't lose…_

The Goblin caught my ankle and hurled me away. The side of the huge oak desk crashed into my spine. Pain lanced through my chest. I smothered a scream.

The Goblin stood a few feet away, arms at his sides, smiling faintly. "Skill comes with age," he said. "Too bad you're going to die so young."

I grabbed a corner of the desk and flung it at him. The Goblin leaped into the air, pushed off from the spinning desk like a springboard and slammed into me, sending us both flying straight through the destroyed wall.

I hit the floor and skidded into the wreckage of a robot. Bone ground in my ribs. Through a haze of agony I could see the room, the same one where the robots had attacked. Pale light from the canyon outside gleamed on shards of glass and twisted metal, and on the pool of blood where Ladyhawk had fallen. Just blood.

Ladyhawk was gone.

A blade gouged the floor an inch from my head. I swung my hand around and webbed his arm to the floor. I stumbled to my feet just as the Goblin ripped free and bounded up again, his face contorted, teeth bared in a gargoyle snarl. "I'm getting tired of this, Junior."

My heartbeat roared in my ears. "Likewise, old man!"

He whipped up his arms. All four blades shot at me like boomerangs. I threw myself backwards. The blades whizzed over me as my back hit the floor. I pulled my legs in and sprang up again, just as my spider-sense screamed a warning and I saw the grenade, flying straight at my head.

There was no time to think. My fingers closed around the metal grenade and my shoulder wrenched in its socket as I spun with the catch and hurled it back at him.

The grenade exploded in midair. A roar of heat and noise smashed me off my feet and into a heap of rubble. My muscles gave way and I hit the floor.

_I…can't…_lose…

I couldn't breathe. My lungs had seized up and I was choking on air. Something hot dripped into my eye.

_He's going to kill them…_

A wisp of air trickled into my lungs. I dragged my hands up and braced them against the floor. Shreds of my mask and strands of sweat-soaked hair hung around my face as I pushed myself up. Fat drops of blood splattered against the wreckage in front of my face and over something else, a thick cinder-covered disc. Doc's antidote.

I shoved myself to my feet. The Goblin was almost twenty feet away, slumped brokenly against the wall. The remnants of his jacket smoldered against the suit of black armor beneath it.

Harry dropped in front of him, blocking my view. "Stop," he gasped. His face was taut with anguish. "Please."

The Goblin raised his head. "Thank you, son."

He climbed to his feet. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. "I'm glad there's still some sense of family left in you."

Harry froze. His body went rigid as if his armor had solidified, as if he _couldn't_ move…

Before I could even think to react an invisible vise clamped shut around me, locking me in place. A jackal-headed shadow slid over the wall, coming straight towards us.

"A minor precaution, Harry," the Goblin said. "No sense in waiting for you to have yet another change of heart."

That bone-chilling gaze turned on me. "And as for _you_…"

Anubis was coming closer. Something appeared in the shadow's fist, a needle-thin blade.

The Goblin wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. The streak of blood smeared across his face like a livid scar. "I suppose I can make do with the rest of your family."

The blade lashed out. Ice-cold pain pierced the back of my neck and suddenly the vise was gone. My legs gave way as if someone had cut them out from under me. I could feel my blood roaring in my veins, burning like acid, going too fast…

_Diaboli,_Anubis droned. _Your friend may have survived, but you will not be so fortunate._

"No," I gasped. My throat was closing. "No-_aaaaaah!_"

Agony shot through me like a sword in my gut. Every muscle in my body was on fire.

_The antidote! Get the antidote!_

I slammed my hand against the wall and dragged myself up. My legs were blocks of lead. Antidote. It was…where I had crashed…

Slow footsteps slid over the floor. Anubis. He was coming after me.

My legs were blocks of lead. I stumbled and collapsed into the rubble. The disc was still there, six inches from my fingertips, six inches too far…

My insides heaved. Blood was welling in my mouth. But the antidote was there, right in front of me…

I forced my fingers to bend. Webbing jetted from my wrist and the disc flew into my hand. I heaved my arm up and slammed it against the outside my leg. It would work. It had to work.

My heart lurched in my chest. Bolts of pain crackled up my spine, into my skull. I screamed.

The footsteps stopped. _A placebo_, Anubis said. _Your friend Dr. Hiller's antibodies programmed themselves to combat a harmless chemical._

The words melted into a ghost of a laugh. _You do not think that I would have so _charitably_ provided a means to create a true antidote to my poison, do you?_

The laugh went on, louder and louder until my skull was ringing with a soundless voice that was changing, becoming more alive, more _human_…

_Yes,_ Anubis said. _Rather…_shirty_ thing for me to do, wasn't it?_


	25. Chapter Twenty Four Final Lesson

**A/N: Happy Holidays. :)**

Chapter Twenty-Four

_Final Lesson_

"You," I croaked. "Sh-…_Shire?_"

Anubis's laugh rattled through my skull._ Die screaming, Spider-Girl._

His shadow turned and glided away, out of sight.

No antidote. No cure. My fingers raked through twisted shards of steel as I clawed at the wall, slicing through my hands, but it didn't matter because I had to get up, _I had to get up..._

The remains of a robot slid out of nowhere and gouged into my legs. I stumbled and fell against the wall. My right hand hit metal and my left empty space. A corridor. I could get out of here, I could-

In an instant the charred walls and heaps of twisted metal were gone. I was in a Midtown High science classroom, with dingy green walls, black lab tables, sinks, cabinets full of dusty beakers. A teacher in a lab coat with a long black braid was writing on the board. "Now, class, remember what Doc Hiller said: It's a botanically-based neurotoxin that mimics cone shell venom. You've read about that, haven't you? So, if this neurotoxin inhibits the acetylcholine receptors in the nerves…"

She started writing faster. "And the voltage-dependent sodium channels in the brain…"

Another surge of pain slashed through me. I grabbed weakly at a table. My hand went through it like a ghost.

"…Leading eventually to complete paralysis of the heart and respiratory system…"

"Help," I gasped. My lungs were filling with acid. "Please…"

"…Keeping in mind that the toxin was injected directly into a carotid artery…"

_Please…_

The teacher lowered her marker and turned around. It was Elaine Garcia. "How long will it take Mayday to die?"

Gigantic fangs slid out of her mouth. Her eyes expanded into round black pools. Four long clawed arms exploded from her sides with sickening cracks.

Black Widow smiled. "Not long at all."

She lunged. I stumbled back and slammed into a cold wall. Black Widow and the classroom shimmered into nothing like a mirage. I was in a dimly lit hallway made of corrugated metal. Thunder rattled through the walls. My knees buckled and I fell, gagging, each heave an agony like claws dragged through my insides. Vomit splattered against the floor in front of me. It was black with blood.

Shadows grabbed my arms. Ladyhawk. Nacht. They were there, on either side of me, pulling me to my feet. I opened my mouth, tried to speak, but before I could get a word out gunshots roared. Nacht and Ladyhawk collapsed and evaporated as they hit the floor.

_You did this, _their voices whispered. _You killed us._

"No," I gasped. I slammed my hand against the wall and heaved myself up. "No..."

A shadow, in front of me, light glinting off its armor. "Harry…" I heaved up my arm, tried to reach... "Help me…"

The voice that spoke wasn't Harry's. "Why?"

My arm fell. My grip on the wall slid and I crashed back to the floor. The shadow stepped closer, leaned over me. "Maybe _he _loves you," it whispered. "But as for _me…_"

He leaned closer. The shadows slid away from a face hideously twisted and warped, skin merged with a grinning goblin mask. "_I'd rather watch you die_."

I hauled myself up and stumbled away, gasping, sobbing. The corridor opened out over ocean waves, thrashing in a black storm of wind and rain, and beneath the surface drifted the wreck of a helicopter, its windshield shattered, blades bent and mangled. There were people inside, Mom, Dad, Benny, staring up at me through the water. Their faces began to dissolve, peeling away until they were nothing but gleaming skulls.

I reeled back and fell, screaming in horror, pain, both. My face hit cold metal. My legs were dead weights. I couldn't get up, couldn't breathe...couldn't...

Someone appeared in front of me, a figure with its hands on its hips, wearing a red and blue suit that flowed seamlessly into a mask whose only features were two huge, swept-back white eyepatches. It was me. Spider-Girl.

"So this is it?" she said. "You're just going to give up and die?"

I retched again. Black vomit bubbled out of my mouth. Blood pounded at my temples, so hard it felt like hammers smashing against my skull. My heart was beating too fast, sending poison surging through my veins, into my lungs and brain and...

She crossed her arms. "What, you think _this_ hurts? What do you think it's going to feel like when the Goblin tortures your family to death? What do you think it's going to feel like for Harry when Hobgoblin takes him over?"

Agony fogged my mind. _Anubis, Shire, no cure..._

She snorted. "Yeah, and he was so sure you were paralyzed, remember? You're not dead yet, so get up!"

Red haze seeped across my vision. The only sound I could make was a croak.

She crouched down beside me, her voice dropping to a furious hiss. "Not dire enough for you? Then how about this: What do you think the Goblin's going to do once you and Dad are out of the way? Think about how many people are going to die because _you_ were too selfish to keep going!"

The scream ripped from my lungs. "_Shut_ _up!_"

"Then prove me wrong! Get up! _Get up!_"

"I…can't…"

"Yes, you can! So what if your legs don't work, you've still got arms! Use your webbing!"

Somehow my arm came up and my fingers bent. I felt the webbing connect, wrapped my fingers around the end and heaved hard enough to unravel my muscles. The floor disappeared from under me and crashed into the soles of my feet. I staggered forward, half blind, fell against a wall and to the floor. I couldn't move anymore, I couldn't...

"What are you doing?" she yelled. "You can't stop now! Get up! _Move!_"

"I can't…" My gasp became a moan. "Leave me alone…"

Her voice was cold. "Fine," she said. "I'll leave you alone."

"I..." Bile choked me. "I…tried…"

"Yeah. You tried." Scorn dripped from her voice. "And you failed."

She turned, began to walk away, and stopped. She looked over her shoulder. "Nice work, hero."

She vanished.

I smashed my palm against the wall and pulled with all the strength I had left. The metal sheeting ripped away, dragging sparking wires and beams with it. I stumbled and fell forward, through the gap in the wall and into another room. My legs gave way. The metal floor slammed into me. I felt my heart shuddering in my chest, each beat sending knives of pain through my body, but now it was slowing down and I couldn't breathe and I couldn't see...couldn't...I was...

I was...

I...

I...

...

* * *

A bolt of lightning roared through my chest. I choked and twisted and felt my head bang hard against the floor. Fingers dug into my arm. "Wake up! Mayday, _wake up!_"

A strange, sparking, sputtering noise crackled in my ears and into my brain. My arms and legs and even my eyes felt weak and watery. I felt for something, found a wall, and pulled myself up to sit against it. I squeezed my eyes shut until the tears dripped away, and opened them again.

"_Andrea?_"

She sat there, right in front of me, her hand wrapped around the rubber guard of a sparking live wire. The cord led to a gap in the wall. A piece of metal paneling lay on the floor next to it, the one I'd ripped out when I fell, and a tangle of twisting wires sat in a lump on the floor.

Andrea held up the wire. "I shocked you," she said. "It's like what they do on hospital shows."

I stared at her. Either I was delirious or completely insane, or Andrea had just saved my _life._

Andrea stared back at me. "Seriously, you never watch _House?_"

I couldn't think of anything to say that made sense and gave up trying. I sat back against the wall, but even though I felt completely wrecked nothing actually _hurt. _I could dizzily remember the last time that had happened: it had shocked my powers back to life. I already healed faster than a normal person, so maybe this time the shock had jump-started the process. _I guess._

Andrea was still talking. "What _happened_ to you? You were like, _dead_! No pulse or anything!"

I gulped hard. "Why..." My voice failed. I tried again. "Wh-what are you doing here? Why aren't you with…"

Andrea looked at her hands. "They got them. Benny and the…" She gulped. "The guy. He said his name was Kurt."

My mouth went dry. "They…_got_ them?"

She nodded, still staring at her hands. "We were running, and then these guys showed up. All in black, with these helmets and…and guns. Kurt told us to run and that he'd hold them off, and then one of the other guys was yelling something about taking them alive. And Benny…I tried to stop him but he ran straight at those guys. I think he was trying to help or something, but…"

The dread turned to terror. I fought to keep my voice steady. "What happened?"

"They grabbed Benny and they all went after Kurt. I didn't see what happened." Her voice sank to a whisper. " I ran."

She lowered her head. Her hair fell across her face and shadowed her eyes. "And then I found you and…"

I clenched my fists so hard that they shook. They took them alive. They were still alive, they had to be, _they had to be..._

Andrea's head snapped up and her eyes fixed on me. "Why is this happening?" she whispered. "Who's _doing_ all of this?"

I took a deep breath. Things were too far gone now. There was nothing I could tell her but the complete truth. "It's the Green Goblin. My dad defeated him years ago and everyone thought he was dead, but he's back. And now he's going to kill my family and turn Harry into-"

"_Harry?_"

I nodded. "He's Harry's father."

There was a moment of complete silence.

Andrea swore.

"Yeah," I said.

"So…" Andrea massaged her temples. "So this is all some, like, really complicated _family feud_?"

I didn't have the energy to answer. Andrea dropped her hands and stared down at them. After a long moment she clenched her fists and looked up again. "So what do we do now?"

I stared at her blankly. Andrea crossed her arms. "If we're going to go take down, like, Darth Vader or whoever, don't you think we should get going?"

The word came out before I could stop it. "_We?_"

Andrea bit her lip and looked down, clenching and unclenching her fists. Her face tightened as she raised her head. "Yeah."

I couldn't think about that, or anything at all. My mind had gone numb, and all I did was climb to my feet, and all I said was, "Let's go."

I turned in a circle on the spot and saw another gray metal panel that was taller than me, pulled out and leaning against the wall. Behind it was what looked like a dark narrow hallway running parallel to the corridor.

Andrea pointed. "That's how I got here."

I stepped over the clump of wires, leaned out into the hallway and looked both ways, but all I saw was darkness. "How far does this go?"

Andrea shrugged. "No clue."

"Okay." I squeezed my eyes shut. _They're alive, they're alive, don't panic or you'll never save them, just think, just _think...

I opened them again. "It's got to go somewhere," I whispered. "And if we go this way, at least no one coming down the hall will see us. Um, I think."

"You _think?_"

"That's the best I can do right now, okay?" I took a deep breath. "And we've got to be quiet, so shut up!"

I stepped out into the corridor and waited, every muscle tense, but my spider-sense was silent. "Okay. Come on."

I turned left and started to walk; it was as good a direction as any. After a few seconds I heard Andrea clomping after me. "Wait a minute, they just let you run off and die?" she whispered. "What if someone comes looking for you?"

I edged around a corner. "If they think I'm already dead, then they're not going to be looking for me in a hurry." _I hope,_ I added silently.

"Yeah, but how do you _know_? What if they're, like, really obsessive compulsive and don't want dead people lying around bleeding on stuff?"

"I _don't _know!" I hissed. "Now would you _please _shut up?"

I heard a snippy _hmph_ but nothing else. We followed the corridor another few yards, and then she said, "So what's the plan, anyway?"

I stopped for a minute, but my spider-sense was still as silent as ever. "We find everyone and save them, and then we get out of here."

"Okay," Andrea said. "How?"

"Um..."

"You don't _know_?"

My spider-sense tingled. "Shhh!"

Andrea huffed. "Don't _shhh_ me, I want to know what-"

"Shut _up!_" I flattened my hands against the wall. Faint footsteps vibrated through the metal, a lot of them. My spider-sense became a buzz. "We're close."

Andrea squinted at me. "How do you know?"

"My spider-sense."

"Your _what -_a-sense?"

I ignored her started to feel my way along the wall. Andrea followed me, at least making an attempt not to clatter on her ridiculously-high platforms. The wall led into shadows, but not so dark that I couldn't see. After twenty steps a hundred slanting specks of light dotted the opposite wall, streaming from the grill covering a wide vent.

Andrea poked me. "It's a vent."

"Thanks, some things I realize." I followed the hallway as quietly as I could, walking heel first, holding my breath. Flattened locks of my hair and the rags that were all that was left of my mask clung to my face with sweat. My mouth was still so dry that no matter how hard I swallowed it didn't make any difference.

_They're alive, they're alive, they have to be alive..._

The light coming from the grille was too bright to hide in. I gulped back another surge of panic, climbed up the wall, crawled around so that I was upside down with my head an inch above the grille. "Okay, I'm staying up here," I whispered, trying and failing to force the quaver out of my voice. "Stay out of the light and look in from the side, and _don't_ let your hair swing out or..."

I turned my head and saw Andrea staring up at me with a weird look on her face. "That's like, _really_ creepy."

"_Shhh_!" I lowered myself on my fingertips, just enough to peer out from under the top of the grille. On the other size of the wall the floor of the gigantic football-field-sized room we'd crossed already stretched out towards the towering solar panels. They glittered in the starlight, casting a strange bronze light over the walls.

Fear swelled in my throat, choking me. The Goblin stood in the shadow of the panels, flanked by two of the helmeted guards, wearing a new black suit and with his hair perfectly combed again. No blood streaked his face, and even the bruises were gone.

He nodded to someone out of sight. "Bring them out."

Two guards marched into view, dragging a limp figure with them. They dropped him in front of the Goblin and he landed hard on his hands and knees. The dark fur of his face was matted with even darker blood, and a thick metal collar encircled his neck. It was Nacht.

More guards appeared, dragging a kicking shape between them. "You can't do this!" he screamed. "You'll be sorry! My sister's gonna kick your-"

The guards flung Benny to the ground. Nacht reached out and grabbed his shoulder. For a split second both of them flickered, but then Nacht let go of Benny and collapsed onto his hands and knees, gasping.

"I wouldn't try teleporting with that on," the Goblin said. "You'll rip yourself in half."

Benny pushed himself up, glaring through his tears, and froze. "Mom," he yelled. "_Mom!_"

Two more guards hurried forward and stopped in front of the Goblin. Between them, dead white and disheveled, was Mom.

My joints locked. I couldn't breathe. _No, no, please, no_...

She raised her head and saw the Goblin. Her face went rigid. "You?" she whispered.

The Goblin smiled. "Hello, my dear."

The guards shoved my mother into line beside Benny. Andrea elbowed me. "What's wrong with you?" she hissed. "_Do something!_"

But I couldn't. A jackal-headed shadow slid across the wall as Anubis, Shire, whoever he was stepped into view, and another figure followed him, walking with stiff, robotic steps. The shadows peeled away from charred, dented armor, a bruised, blood-streaked face with lifeless eyes, a mask over something already dead.

"Ah," the Goblin said. "I believe you know my son?"

Anubis and Harry stopped, flanking the Goblin. He smiled. "You'll forgive me for using you as an educational example," he said, "but this is a very important moment. The prodigal son's returned to the fold." He raised his hands and cracked his knuckles with loud, deliberate snaps. "And he's about to learn a few tricks of the trade."

A gasp seethed between Mom's teeth. Nacht looked from the Goblin to Harry, bewildered, his face white beneath his fur.

The Goblin turned to Mom. "Pay attention, Harry," he called over his shoulder, without taking his eyes from her face. "Here's lesson one. When you have the upper hand, don't be afraid to use it. Strike a little fear." He smiled. "It's all part of the fun."

Harry's face shone with sweat. His eyes flickered from Mom to his father.

"Let's see who we have here," the Goblin said. He stalked down the line, past Mom and Benny. "The love of Parker's life, the precocious youngster…" He stopped at Nacht and crouched down in front of him. "And of course, our valiant little mutant. Kurt Wagner, _habe ich Recht?_"

Nacht spat at him. The Goblin shook his head and looked up at Mom. "I suppose I ought to let you know that your daughter's misguided rescue attempt was a failure. I'll give her this, though- it was a _spectacular_ failure." He shook his head, a mocking smile playing over his lips. "What's the body count up to now, two out of four?"

Mom's voice was a gasp. "What?"

The Goblin ignored her and turned back to Nacht. "It's too bad Spider-Girl got to you before I did. I could use someone with your abilities."

_"Kannst mich mal, Mistkerl,_" Nacht growled.

The Goblin snorted. "Wrong answer. Cliché, too."

He took something from the floor, straightened, and held out his hand. The beads of Nacht's rosary dangled from his fingertips.

"But you'll appreciate this," he whispered. "Your friend Spider-Girl just died of the same poison that should have killed you. You're only here now because she was there to save you."

Nacht snatched at the rosary and missed. The Goblin smirked and swung it back and forth like a pendulum, just out of reach. "Too bad you couldn't return the favor."

"_Du lügst,_" Nacht rasped. "You…liar." He gasped a breath. "_Liar!_"

The Goblin swung the rosary up and caught it in his fist. Glass crunched. He turned his fist, opened his fingers, and let fragments of beads slide out of his hand onto the floor in front of Nacht's face.

Mom's shoulders heaved, her breath was ragged. She stared at the Goblin, slowly shaking her head. He raised an eyebrow. "You don't believe me?" He smiled. "That's right. Maybe I'm lying. But maybe I'm not." His smile widened. "It's hard to tell with me, isn't it?"

He leaned closer, far too close. "After all, your daughter could still be at home in Queens. Grieving for her family, but safe," he whispered. "Or maybe little May really _did_ gasp out her last breath all alone, in agony, just a few minutes a—"

Mom smashed her fist into his face.

The Goblin reeled back. He slowly shook his head, sliding his jaw back and forth. "The years haven't changed you, Mary Jane."

He snapped his fingers. Anubis inclined his head ever so slightly. My spider-sense buzzed as a shadow dropped from the ceiling, twisted in midair, and landed in a crouch on the floor.

My heart stopped.

In the room below, crouching perfectly still at Anubis's side, was Spider-Man.

Benny's eyes were huge in his face. "D-_Dad_?"

"Peter?" Mom whispered.

Anubis's jackal head tilted again. Dad stood, and slowly, stiffly, came to stand beside Anubis.

"Wh-...what's he..." Andrea croaked. "What's he doing with _them_?"

The Goblin wheeled around, eyes alight with demonic glee. "Final lesson for today, Harry!" he shouted. "The only way to destroy your enemy is to destroy him entirely."

He whipped around to face Dad. "And what better way is there to destroy a devoted family man…" I could hear the smile in his voice. "Than to make him watch his family die?"

The Goblin held up his hand, frowning in mock concentration. "No, wait." He tapped his fingers against his chin. "There _is_ a better way."

He dropped his hand, curled it into a fist. "Yes," he said. "The _best_ way to destroy a devoted family man…"

His lips pulled back from his teeth in a horrible death's-head grin. "Would be to make him do it himself."

He jerked his head at Dad, at the jackal-headed specter beside him. "Kill them."


End file.
